Tarkin's Fist Episode III The Earth Strikes Back
by AshlaTi
Summary: The third act of the epic Earth-Empire War. Both planets will be brought to their knees. If you leave a review I'll let Yoda know you're really not too old to train.
1. Prologue Dorn

It is a time of strife for the stranded Imperial Fleet; Tarkin's Fist. Seeking to reestablish some sense of normalcy they terraformed the planet Mars into a semblance of the Empire they left behind. Wanting no rivals in their infancy the Empire sought to bring their neighbor Earth to its knees by unleashing a war that wiped out a quarter of that world'a population in its opening volley. Seeking to rebuild and survive the Earth has fought back with every means at its disposal. Now, discontented forces from within have struck the Empire at its heart. The Emperor is dead.

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Urban Warfare Training Facility 46-Geck, 2nd Martian Line Corps HQ, Margaritifer Terra, Mars

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"Stop or we'll blast!"

Lieutenant Murp barely heard the warning as he sprinted around another corner inside the warren of alleyways inside the training complex. Several green bolts slapped into the duracrete wall behind him. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest, not from the exhilaration of the chase but from the knowledge that this wasn't a training exercise.

He ran down a small alley and turned left and then right, trying to put as much distance and as many angles between him and his pursuers as possible. The mugginess of the uncharacteristically hot Martian day soaked his uniform in sweat. He slowed for a moment and then frowned when he heard the approaching sound of several heavy plastoid boots.

He sped up even though his lungs were on fire begging for every molecule of oxygen he could spare. He tore the code cylinder from his gray tunic and flung it to the ground, stomping hard on the device as he passed by.

He didn't know what was going on. In the past hour the Home Legion of the Stormtrooper Corps had gone insane. They had arrested hundreds of officers and civilian officials across the military base, as well as during rumored sweeps in the capital itself, before they came for him. Even before the stormtroopers found him, Murp had watched the plume of smoke rising from the northeast and had known that something was wrong. Usually Tarkin Tower in the Ares Vallis could be seen at that distance but today it was nothing more than an ashy pyre on the horizon. Adding to his confusion, the Imperial Royal Guard had initiated a comm blackout across Mars and Murp had no way of reporting in to his commander, Captain Yutu.

"There he is!" An electronically-amplified voice called out.

Murp turned his head to spot a trio of troopers bearing down him. Ahead of him was another alley with the hope of a momentary sanctuary. He tapped into his last energy reserve and ran for it. His speed was so great he didn't have time to react when another stormtrooper stepped out of the alley toward which he was barreling.

The trooper brought up the butt of his E-11 blaster rifle and drove it straight into the Lieutenant's gut. The blow knocked the air out of him and folded him in half as his legs and torso flew forward of their accord. He was momentarily airborne before landing hard on his back. It hurt like a fierfeker to get hit like that. He closed his eyes and winced in agony.

When he opened them again he was gazing into the barrels of four blaster rifles. Two stormtroopers bent down and lifted him up by his shoulders. They restrained his arms as he fought to catch his breath.

From down the roadway an open-topped gravtruck approached. Murp could see a pair of stormtroopers in the back, standing over a dozen officers wearing stuncuffs.

"1st Lieutenant Murp, Quill SigInt Station, Fleet Intelligence?" One of the stormtroopers asked him. The trooper didn't look up from his datapad, which Murp assumed was full of the names of those who were to be arrested.

"Yes, that's me." Murp reluctantly admitted. They had his ID and face on file so there was no sense in denying who he was.

"By orders of Theater Commander Moff Seco of the Ploo Sector of the True Empire, and acting Seneschal of the 1st Martian Empire, you are hereby placed under arrest until such time as you are to be sentenced. You do not have the right to speak. If you defy this then anything you say will be used against you in a court of punishment. You may purchase the services of a litigator. If you cannot afford a litigator you are responsible for your own representation."

"I understand my rights." Murp said.

"I could care less." The stormtrooper replied. He motioned for the others to lead him to the waiting gravtruck.

"Then why are you doing this? I haven't broken any law. I serve the Empire."

The stormtroopers lifted him up and threw him over the tailgate of the truck. He landed with a thud in the midst of the other shackled prisoners. The two troopers in the gravtruck slapped a pair of stuncuffs across his wrists.

The stormtrooper called up from the ground, "So do I, buddy. It's just orders to us."

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Pacific Ocean, 75 miles west of Cabo San Lucas, Mexico

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Eddie Marquand's stomach had finally grown accustomed to the endless rolling motion of the Pacific. A steady diet of fish and seaweed wraps after weeks of near starvation had helped.

There had been nothing the barest of scraps to eat back in Hawaii for months.

He shuddered when he remembered what some people had resorted to in an effort to fend off starvation. The evils they had perpetrated on each other would haunt Eddie for the rest of his life.

Thank God for Mr. Ishiba.

Eddie had found the Japanese fisherman in the early days after the Empire's invasion, after the aliens had killed his friend, Rick Kershner, and abducted his other friend, Jason Bogan. Had we really come to Hawaii for as unimportant as a Star Trek convention, he wondered? It all seemed so unreal.

Mr. Ishiba had a small boat beached near the town of Waianae. It was old and holey and required gasoline for its engine. Eddie offered to help repair it and when Mr. Ishiba seemed reluctant he had offered his credentials as an engineering student. That seemed to be enough for the old fisherman.

With cannibals roaming the countryside and armed gangs rounding up people for slave farms, Mr Ishiba was grateful for all the help he could get. They worked mostly at night, gathering materials to patch the hole and getting the boat seaworthy. They even sanded a telephone pole into a mast.

A displaced family with three small children discovered them shortly after they had started. They had been dumped on Hawaii from Fiji, and like Eddie they had been rejected by the robot doctors on Mars. Evidently their family had some sort of glandular issue that that caused the Empire to disqualify them from becoming slaves. The Nailatikaus had eagerly helped to construct a sail out of several canvas car covers that the family had gathered.

It had taken them a nerve-wracking month to ready the boat. Gunfire and smoke permeated the ruined island day and night. Once they were prepared Mr. Ishiba wanted to wait for a storm to conceal their escape. They didn't have to wait long. These days, storms ravished Oahu once or twice a week.

They used PVC pipes as rollers to get the boat from their concealed, make-shift dry-dock and into the water. Once they were in the water Ishiba used tar to seal any leaks the boat had while the Nailatikas set out coolers to collect rain water. Eddie manned a small net that quickly snared the first of their bait fish.

The storm had eventually blown out but not before pushing them well to the southeast. Without electricity to power the ship's computer and GPS it was difficult to tell where they were. Mr. Ishiba had a compass and some old charts but without any landmarks it was impossible to figure out where to go. They eventually decided to plot a course east and make landfall wherever they could.

They spent their days fishing and listening to short bursts from the solar-powered radio. Los Angeles had fallen and war continued in Asia but that was about all they could determine.

They spent two months on the ocean. Mrs. Nailatikus had been a dietician before the war and told him that seaweed would help with his diabetes. He ate all he could, as well as sashimi for every meal and he learned to like it after a fashion.

Storms continued to push them west but Mr. Ishiba insisted that they head into every one for the rain water. Without fresh water they would have perished shortly after leaving Hawaii and so no one protested the course.

One night the sky was unusually clear likely because they were far from land masses of any significance. Eddie was always amazed at how many stars he could see out here. He had grown up in New York and gone to Boston for school and so he wasn't used to seeing more than a handful every night. Now there were more than his eyes could ever count.

A few of the stars were moving, as they always were. Those were the Empire's space ships that had rained down destruction in a world-spanning fire. Eddie hoped that one small fishing boat would be beneath their notice.

As he continued to find patterns in the stars lights flashed between two of the alien vessels. Tiny streaks of red passed between them. Eddie propped himself up on his elbows and squinted for a better look. "What the hell?"

"What is it?" Mr. Ishiba had also been awake and manning several of the fishing lines that trailed the boat.

"Something's up with the aliens."

Mr. Ishiba looked up just as a bright light flared up from one of the starships. "Hmm? It looks like they are firing on each other."

"Do you think we've got a spaceship up there?"

"Maybe. Maybe the aliens are fighting each other. Whatever it is, I'll take it as a good omen."

Eddie watched as the two space ships drifted away from each other until one of them disappeared altogether. Perhaps it retreated from the fight. Or maybe, hopefully, it had been destroyed.

Mr. Ishiba said nothing else and eventually Eddie drifted off to sleep with the rolling of the boat.

The next day the shores of Mexico were visible from the eastern horizon.

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Command Bridge, Imperial I-class SD Wilderness, Equatorial Orbit over Mauritania, Earth

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Moff Seco's bridge was in turmoil.

No, wait, he was calling himself the Seneschal of the Empire now, Commander Eiryn reminded herself while stifling the urge to roll her eyes.

Officers from various ships and Army units argued with each other inside the crowded bridge. A few fists had been thrown and Naval Troopers had been called in to try to maintain order. Anxiety ran high and was amplified by the fact that the Moff had failed to act immediately following the death of Emperor Yos on Mars, a death brought about by the brave and loyal actions of her lover, Captain Volt, commander of the Insertion.

The Insertion had just arrived from Mars and was now moored alongside the invasion's flagship. The change in venue of the assassination as well as an immediate orbital comm blackout had initially prevented Seco from knowing that their mission had been carried out. Worse, many of the conspirators amongst the fleet weren't convinced that the Emperor was truly dead. No one could get through to Mars, where Operation Diathim was supposedly underway in securing the planet.

"I delivered the bomb, I saw the explosion and I know the man is dead. We need to return to Mars, direct the troops securing the capital and silence the Royal Guard from spreading rumors that he's still alive." Volt told Seco.

"Preposterous. We need to secure the loyalty of every ship in the Fleet, as well as the Army dirtside on Earth, before we advance. With the deaths of the two Yos family members, Mars is already in our hands. Captain Charge already has the situation in the capital firmly under our control."

"My Lord, several Kuati Destroyers and cruisers have broken away from the main fleet. They are retreating to Mars." A crewman shouted from the crew pit.

"Bring up the subspace radar and CommScan feeds." Volt ordered.

"Yes, sir." An image appeared of several Star Destroyers rapidly abandoning their positions in the Fleet's formation.

Eiryn swore to herself. Those ships had Kuati officers and crew who hadn't been completely bought off by Seco's stolen aurodium reserve. Evidently they had overpowered their small Ploo security contingents and taken matters into their own hands. If they weren't acting out of loyalty to their fallen Emperor then they were acting out of loyalty to that old fool of a Moff, Kuantus Kuat. He still held the allegiance of most Kuati in the Empire, which made up the largest portion of the human population in the Empire.

"Do not pursue. We must keep the fleet together." Seco ordered.

"They will add some sizable numbers to the forces opposing us, My Lord." Volt said. Eiryn smiled at how easily her lover had become Seco's trusted right hand. And in doing so he had deposed the corpulent Admiral Neptu, who had been given the menial task of securing Luna Base on the Earth's moon as part of their coup. It was a task that could be handled by even the lowest ranking officer and as such wouldn't alter the outcome of the revolution one way or another.

"Not enough to make a difference. We will still vastly outnumber them." Seco said.

Eiryn added. "Perhaps when they arrive at Mars and find their Emperor dead and their Moff under arrest they will stand down once we arrive."

"I've reached that same conclusion." Seco said, though the tone in his voice hinted that that was the first time the thought had occurred to him. "Culter's fleet under Admiral Bacara has maintained their loyalties due to Moff Culter's gracious presence here." Seco nodded to the Anoat Moff, who was staring out at the planet below.

Culter had shown up a week ago, begging Seco to seek terms with the Earth's scattered governments so that he could repair their world. It was a foolish humanitarian gesture that showed just what a weak-minded, bleeding heart liberal the Anoat Moff truly was, Eiryn mused. Seco had falsely promised Culter he would do so if the governor helped him with the revolution. Both parties, perhaps, sensed treachery and so to maintain Culter's loyalty Seco had kept him at his side ever since their agreement.

"I demand that we move now. We are wasting precious time, time our enemies are using against us." Volt demanded, conviction burning in his every syllable.

"We have enemies amongst us that I insist we deal with first." Seco countered. "Bring fourth Admiral Hadrian."

Two Naval Troopers dragged the limp form of the Kuati Squadron's commander before the gathered assembly. A low moan from the bloodied and bruised officer let them know that he was still alive. The Naval Troopers dropped him at Seco's feet.

Hadrian got to his knees. It was evident to Eiryn that the man had suffered a severe beating and appeared to be unable to stand. Volt had once told her ISB's usual method was to break a man's forearms and wrists before questioning. It saved time, he had told her. Evidently this time they had included the Admiral's shin bones as well.

"You warned those ships of what was happening didn't you?" Seco asked, indicating the escaping Kuati vessels that were still visible on the bridge's subspace radar.

"Kuat before all else." The Admiral gurgled between broken and bloodied teeth.

"Fool." Seco said and removed his pistol from its holster. He pointed it at the traitorous Kuati.

"Long live the Martian Emp . . ." Hadrian shouted. The sharp bark of the pistol silenced him as the bolt caught him in the forehead.

The two Naval Troopers dragged the body from the bridge. Its passing left a long blood trail all the way out of the door.

Seco turned to Volt. "Return to your vessel. Be ready to sail as soon as the Captain Charge signals that the Home Legion has secured the capital."

"We need to move now, My Lord." Volt stepped forward and Eiryn had to grab his arm, fearing that he would do something foolish.

Seco smiled and put a hand on Volt's shoulder. "Why the haste? Don't you see? We've already won."

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Bunker Fortress Frisky Tailhead, Circus Circus ruins, Las Vegas, Nevada, NAU

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Lieutenant Mahan crawled slowly along the shoulder-wide trench between his platoon's forward emplacements and their heavy weapon blast bays. The fortification zigged and zagged every few meters in an effort to defeat incoming slug artillery and mortar bombs. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. The trench was deep enough that Mahan could have stood up and not fully exposed himself to enemy sniper blasts but like every other trooper in 3rd Platoon he had learned through months of combat on Earth that throwing yourself in the mud saved you a trip to a MedStar or your own funeral pyre somewhere back behind the lines.

He passed by several sniper and E-Web dugouts, their troopers manning their positions while silently studying the American lines several blocks away. Every now and then a bolt would sing out as a sniper took a blast at something he had seen in the abo lines. Each kill was no longer a victory to be celebrated but a job that got them one step closer to going home to Mars.

Mahan rounded a corner and entered a blast bay occupied by several Merr-Sonn proton mobile-mortar 3s. Troopers dropped their energy shells into the weapons with a chi-thunk sound. The mortars discharged with a barely audible pop.

"Correct, up three." Platoon Sergeant SF-4738 said. He had been observing the mortar drop from a periscope hung over the far end of the blast bay. A sheet of earth-steel concealed the sergeant's portion of the trench from enemy view. Evidently abo observers inside their so-far impregnable Fortress Stratosphere were getting frisky again.

"Up three." The corporal in charge of the mortar section replied, sounding bored. One trooper sitting upright next to the platoon sergeant seemed to be napping against a box of cutting tools. But if SF-4738 wasn't concerned then he wasn't going to be either, Mahan told himself. Sleep was a rare commodity in the front line and he wasn't going to rob it from anyone as long as it wasn't hurting the platoon. And SF-4738 would tell him if it was hurting the platoon.

He knew that he was technically in charge of the 3rd Platoon but every trooper in the unit knew who really ran the show. Mahan didn't mind. SF-4738 had pulled them out of more scrapes than he could count. The veteran NCO would never get any medals but he'd go into a black hole and back just so every one of the troopers in his charge would get enough to eat and someday go home. Mahan had a tremendous amount of respect for and a healthy dose of fear of the sergeant.

"Hey, Sarge." Mahan sidled up to the NCO, who never took his eyes off the periscope. Imperial Commissars aside, there wasn't a tremendous amount of proper respect in the trenches. After months of combat it didn't even phase Mahan, especially considering a salute would get an American sniper slug through some hapless officer's helmet lens. "What do you think of these new orders that just came down from FleetOps?"

"Fierfek FleetOps. Vacheads all have their heads up their shebs." The sergeant paused for a moment and sighed. News from Fleet was never good for the simple dirt-pounders, "I haven't heard. What kind of poodoo do they want us to do now?" SF-4738 asked.

"Um . . . nothing. We are to hold in place and initiate 'defensive maneuvers'."

"Feirfeking vacheads. Why don't they just say dig in?"

"Cause they're vacheads, Sarge. Like you said, vacheads pull half of what they say out of their own shebs." Mahan laughed, realizing he was doing his best to imitate SF-4738.

"Sounds about right. I'm sure the boys won't mind not having to charge any more of those Ma Deuce heavy repeaters any time soon. Don't let the Commissar hear that though, Loot."

"Roger that, Sarge, um . . . There's more to our orders."

"By the Force, what other poodoo have they cooked up?"

"It's about prisoners."

"They want us to sneak out and do an abo grab tonight? The boys won't like that. It's Fourth Squad's turn, I guess."

"Not quite. Fleet issued an AAC stating that we're to set officers aside for interrogation but all enlisted prisoners are to be executed out of hand." Mahan said.

SF-4738 whipped his head away from the periscope and finally looked Mahan in the face. Mahan suddenly wanted to disappear. "E chu ta, Loot. We can't do that. The boys aren't murderers. They're troopers doing a job. And if we start doing it to the abos what's to prevent them from doing it to us?"

"I don't know, Sarge. This comes all the way from the top. From Seneschal Seco."

"From who?"

"From the Seneschal. I don't know if I'm even pronouncing that right. It's some kind of title the Moff has taken I guess. They've also sent out a directive that any orders given in the field are to be passed through our local Commissar."

"That's a kriffing poodoo way to run the war, Loot. We've got one Commissar in the Battalion and the scum is back with the High Colonel a kilometer back at HQ. How are you going to run orders by him whenever a blaster fight breaks out?"

"Fierfek, I wish I knew. Can I ask you something else?" Mahan pulled off his helmet, indicating he wanted the other man to follow his lead. SF-4738 did so and leaned in so they could talk in private.

"What's up?"

"Sarge, you heard anything from Mars in the last rotation?"

"Not a peep. I don't have any family up there, sir. The boys in 3rd Platoon are about it for me."

"That's what I figured. Well it seems Seco is shaking things up. But get this last part of our orders." Mahan handed a sheet of flimsiplast over to the NCO who gave it a quick read.

"We're to ignore any command given by Moff Kuat or the Imperial Royal Guard? But the Bluecloaks are the Emperor. Ignoring them is ignoring the will of Emperor Yos, a man we all swore our oaths to after we lost contact with Palpatine."

"I know that, Sarge. I just wish I knew what in the Seven Hells was going on up in orbit or back home. Scuttlebutt has it that some of the Fleet has blasted on each other."

"What?"

"Yeah, and if we're not supposed to take orders from Moff Kuat it only means the Kuati did something with the Emperor."

"Stang them. We've got Kuati units all up and down our lines. Can we trust them, Loot?"

"I don't know, Sarge. I really don't know." Mahan, if only in an effort to not disappoint the man across from him, was going to find out. "Put out extra sentries tonight and have our troopers improve their positions."

"I hear that, sir. I suddenly got the inkling our greatest threat isn't across no-beings-land, if you catch my drift." SF-4738 said.

Mahan couldn't agree more.

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Malastare Heights, Culter City, Mars

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Frip hated being short. It didn't help that today was so stang hot as well. The heat was baking the duracrete walkways of the city and sending little ripples of heat energy into the air. A large crowd of beings were being held up by something up ahead of them that he couldn't see.

Why it rain not, he thought? His scales could use a refreshing cleansing of the heavy alkaline dust in the air.

He wondered if they were due for another sand storm like the one they had last year, then noticed the smoke in the air. Paying attention to his surroundings for the first time, he stopped and heard the sounds of dozens of sirens echoing off the towering red walls of the city. Something was happening in the city that had the CCG all stirred up.

Me nothing to do with, the Ishi Tib mused.

"Why are you blocking this roadway?" Someone shouted from up ahead.

"Yeah, I got to get to back to work or my boss at Arakyd Industries is going to kill me!" Another human pleaded angrily.

"Get back in line, resident." An electronically-amplified voicebox ordered. That voice could only belong to one of the Emperor's goons, a stormtrooper.

Frip pushed through the crowd enough to get a better glimpse of what was going on ahead of him. Sure enough, a squad of stormtroopers had the roadway blocked with razor-teeth wire while another squad of troopers scanned identicards at a checkpoint stretching across the walkway. Some beings had already passed through but several others had been pulled aside and sat along one side of the walkway under the watchful gaze of a pair of troopers. An officer at the front of the line checked identicards against a list he had on his datapad. It reminded Frip of the Empire's takeover of his homeworld, Tibrin, when he was a youngling.

Not know I be a pirate, Frip thought, just play along and get by checkpoint. Frip was meeting up with his friends Keatly and Brakatak at a pub several blocks from their homestead. After Ashla had gone out this morning he had been the last one to leave the homestead.

"You can't keep doing this to us. We're Imperial residents. We've got rights, you know." A Quarren yelled at the officer when Frip neared the front of the line.

"Today is not the day to mess with us, Squid-Face." The officer jabbed a finger into the mouthy Quarren's chest. "So shut your trap before I run you in or worse."

As he said that one of the stormtroopers raised his blaster rifle in the Quarren's direction. The protestor backed up in a hurry. "No offense, sir. I know you're just doing your job, and doing it quite well I might add."

Frip snorted at the Quarren's sudden change of heart. He got to the front of the line and politely handed the officer his identicard. The officer took it and checked his name against his list. Frip tried not to look anxious. As far as he knew the crew of the Agen's Light wasn't a known pirate crew. Their slicer, Keatly, made regular checks of the Empire' most wanted lists to make sure.

He looked over at the nearest stormtrooper and thought of his friend, Jason. Frip knew that Jason wasn't among the troopers here because none of them had yet blasted themselves in the foot. The earthling had been gone for three weeks now, his whereabouts unknown as he underwent stormtrooper training. Frip worried that the earthling was going to give himself away and get himself thrown back into that death camp on the other side of the planet but so far the crew hadn't heard anything. Keatly had felt so responsible for crafting the earthling's new indentity that she regularly checked the Imperial Army's court-martial records to ensure he hadn't been found out. So far he seemed to be passing as a native Imperial. Frip was proud of his friend's apparent and previously underutilized deviousness.

"Resident Frip. Home world, Tibrin. Occupation- transport crewbeing for Brakatak Cargo Hauling." The officer read off his datapad.

"Yes, sir. Me that is." Frip replied.

"You check out." The officer handed him back his identicard. "Move along. We've got bigger fish to fry today." The officer grinned at his own joke.

"Thanks." Frip said and hurried past the checkpoint. He avoided eye contact with the hapless beings under guard. He didn't know what they had done and besides, he didn't have the means to help them. It was just life in the Empire, he told himself.

As he rushed to the bar his gaze moved towards the center of the city almost a dozen kilometers to the south. A long plume of smoke drifted away from the top of Tarkin's Tower. Distant fire speeders buzzed around the military headquarters. Frip assumed they had something to do with the checkpoint that he just passed through.

He saw the pub, the Drunken Tusken, ahead. He rushed inside, squinting as his eyes became used to the dimly lit bar. A lone Theelin dancing girl twirled slowly around a pole on the pub's stage. A pair of Mustafarians watched the show with half-hearted interest as they drank their beer at the edge of the stage.

Due to his size, Brakatak was hard to miss in the mostly empty pub. The Gran sat in a booth across from the Firrerreo slicer. Both of them were nursing beers and watching the HoloNews feed on the imagecaster above the bar.

A bored Farghul bartender cleaned glasses behind the bar with what Frip hoped was a clean rag. He nodded at Frip when he entered. Another pair of dancers, a Twilek and a Trandoshan, sat at the far end of the bar smoking tabac pipes.

"A Sarlacc Kicker, please." Frip ordered as he passed by on his way to his friend's booth. The bartender just shrugged and brought over a glass as Frip settled in next to Keatly.

"Sugar?" The bartender asked.

"No thanks, sweet enough I am." Frip replied. The bartender just rolled his eyes and slithered back behind the bar.

"Traffic slow you down?" Keatly asked.

"Checkpoint. Stormies get nasty with beings. Slow everything down." Frip admitted.

"Probably has something to do with that." Brakatak said and pointed at the HoloNews. The screen showed the Imperial Seal while a scroll passed across the bottom of holoimage, urging residents to stay inside their homes by order of the Imperial Royal Guard and the House of Yos. "The HoloNews has been shut down but there's rumors someone took a blast at Emperor Yos himself."

"E chu ta! Who'd be so stoopa?" Frip exclaimed. "Old Palps would have scary Darth Vader kill the scum if any being was so bold"

"Well, Yos doesn't have his own shiny-stick enforcer so someone must have felt it was worth the risk. My guess is one of the Moffs, probably Kuat." Keatly said.

Brakatak shrugged. "Got nothing to do with us or any of the crew. So what is this stuff you've got to show us, fishy?"

Frip dug into the pocket of his tunic and withdrew a small plastoid bag of buds and flowers that smelled of crushed quarrelgrass. He tossed it onto the middle of the table.

"That's not Earth Spice." Brakatak said.

"No, and we get none of that poodoo for some time. Coca plant hate it here on Mars. Very stubborn plant. This is Jason's weed. He plant before he go. it grow crazy like . . . well, a weed in Martian soil." Frip said. Keatly's shoulder's slumped at the mention of the earthling. Frip touched her arm to let her know that no one blamed her for their friend's conscription. "Earth weed grow very wizard. Like . . . well, like a weed. I no know what to do with it. Then I think of tabac and I smoked it."

Brakatak laughed. "You crazy little guppy. You could have poisoned yourself. Well, I had a feeling that crazy clone, Neyo, was leading us on a wild-Mynock chase with his plant-based Earth Spice. We will have to find a way to make more credits some other way."

"No, this stuff very astral. Not kick in shebs like Earth Spice, but stellar for taking edge off. Much better than tabac." Frip was ready for this and removed several small pieces of flimsi from his pocket. He opened the bag and quickly rolled some of the weed into several cigarras. He handed one to each of his friends who skeptically took them from his hand.

Within moments a thick cloud of smoke surrounded their booth. Keatly had developed a case of the giggles.

"Force bless that Jason. You know what? He might have just hit the jackpot with this stuff. I've never felt this relaxed and just, well, good about myself." Brakatak said.

Frip took a sip of his drink to counteract the dry mouth he suddenly felt. "And crazy earthers call it weed. No wonder they be losing the war. Oops, no tell Jason I say that, please." Frip looked around rapidly, worried the earthling had suddenly appeared and overheard him. The booth's occupants giggled at Frip's distress.

"I think we can sell this stuff once things settle down outside. The Empire's got no regulations against selling weeds. I mean, why would they?" Brakatak said.

"Yeah, but weed sounds stoopa. Something a scruffy earther would say. It needs something to spice it up. Let beings know how it will make them feel." Keatly suggested.

The three of them grew silent for a moment as they thought of names they could call this stuff. "You guys ever watch pod-racing? I loved the sport when I was a youngling. There was this one slave youngling out on Tatooine who could do the most amazing flying in a pod-racer." Brakatak said.

"By the core," Frip laughed, "What you are talking of, silly Brakatak friend?"

"Oh, his name popped into my head for some reason. It'd be perfect for this stuff."

"And that would be?" Keatly asked.

"Skywalker."

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FleetOps SigInt Station, Tarkin Tower, Imperial Mars

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"Remember, we serve the Empire." Lieutenant Commander Knebler told the technicians and agents gathered around the room. A loud, rhythmic, metallic pounding could be heard from the sealed entrance.

Knebler glanced at his commander's office and then back towards the central imagecaster in the room. The holoimage of several stormtroopers slowly caving in the secured door with sledgehammers was the focus of almost every eye in the room. It also revealed half a dozen squads worth of Imperial Commandos ready to storm the room as soon as the door came down.

"Holster your weapons. We're not to resist." Knebler repeated his commander's orders. "Those are loyal troopers of the Empire out there. They're following orders, just like we are."

"Yeah, but who's issuing their orders?" A Falleen Lieutenant wondered aloud. Knebler shot her a look that warned her to keep her mouth shut.

There was a loud crack and then a slam as the heavy door fell from its hinges. A heartbeat later the commandos charged through the entrance. "On your knees! Hands up!" orders came from a dozen mouths at once as the intelligence agents were subdued.

"Lieutenant Commander Knebler?" One of the commandos asked while pointing his blaster rifle in his face. "Where is your commander?"

"I don't have to tell you anything." Knebler replied defiantly.

"I'm right here." Captain Yutu stepped from his office. Immediately a trio of commandos rushed to take him into custody. They pulled his arms behind him and slapped stun cuffs on them.

"Sir, you are under arrest, under order of Seneschal Seco in conformity of regulations passed down through Operation Diathim." A commando officer said.

"On what charges?" Yutu asked.

"Treason and conspiracy against the crown." A voice said from the door. Knebler turned in that direction and recognized the speaker as Captain Charge, Yutu's equal in the Bureau of Operations. The officer was followed into the room by Colonel Katarn, Commander of the Home Legion, and Commissioner Jord'Dan, Superintendent of the Culter City Guard. Knebler, from years of intelligence expertise, read both men in an instant. The pair appeared hesitant to be following the Naval officer's lead. Their frowns made them look unsure what to make of the events of the day.

"I've committed no such offense and neither have my men. We serve the Empire." Yutu retorted.

"Nonsense, you have been in league with the Royal Guard in their attempt to assassinate the Emperor and take over the government here on Mars. Furthermore, you are guilty of aiding and abetting the actions of the enemy during the events that led to the destruction of the Eradicate and the Earth 2 colony. Seco has proclaimed himself Seneschal and will be presenting evidence at your sentencing and execution." Charge informed them. "Several of your men will join you."

Knebler swallowed hard. As Yutu's second-in-command he knew he was facing the chopping block alongside his commander.

"How much did he pay you?" Yutu accused Charge. Katarn and Jord'Dan looked at each other in confusion. Perhaps they were honest officers who were being duped, Knebler hypothesized.

Charge leaned in and whispered something to Yutu with a smile on his face. Yutu frowned. Knebler and the other officers had just been far enough out of earshot to miss out on what the Directors had said to each other.

"What of the Emperor?" Yutu asked.

"Dead. His body has been located by rescue crews amongst the wreckage upstairs." Charge informed the room. There were several gasps from the intelligence staff, as well as from some of the stormtroopers who had broken into the station.

"And the Princess?" Knebler yelled across the room.

"Dead as well, we assume. Blasted down by Guardsmen assassins in Tarkin's Square." Charge said. "Your conspirators in the Royal Guard have surely recovered her body and are holding it at the Palace. They still hold the Royal Residence, as well as the HoloNet broadcasting center, where they are attempting to jam all off world communication. We hold the rest of the capital, or we will by nightfall."

Knebler decided that Charge was a fool to let an enemy know so much of his doings. And not verifying the Princess's death would allow hope to grow in the Empire. Hope that whatever nefarious plan Seco had launched against the Empire failed. By the Force, let her be alive, Knebler said to himself.

"Who is 'We'?" Yutu asked.

"The loyal troopers of the CCG and the Home Legion working under the orders of Moff Seco, Admiral Neptu, Moff Culter, and myself as sole acting Director of the Bureau." Charge replied merrily.

"What of Captain Dual? Where is Kuat? Hadrian? Bacara? Nake?" Yutu baited his fellow Director.

Charge blissfully supplied the answer. Knebler could see greedy credit signs in Charge's eyes. It was obvious to everyone in the naval intelligence crew that the Supply Director had been bought off with promises of power or, more likely, a mountain of aurodium. "Our dear comrades, Captains Dual and Nake, have perished at their Emperor's side. Admiral Hadrian is being dealt with by the Seneschal. I'm not sure what Bacara is up to. The affairs of clones are beneath me."

Across the room Colonel Katarn suddenly glared. The Colonel had fought aside clones during the last war in the Home Galaxy and many of his best friends had been decanted on Kamino. It was no wonder he didn't appreciate the Director's harsh choice of words.

"Their deaths are on your hands, scum." Yutu goaded him.

"And many more will be on yours. Can you get the Royal Guard to stand down?" Charge asked.

"You know as well as I do that they are not in the military hierarchy. They follow their own chain of command, which starts with a member of the Royal family." Yutu said.

"Well then, they have no one left to follow. Surely they will see reason and stand down."

"The Force help you if you're wrong." Yutu stared vibrodaggers of hate at his former comrade.

"We shall see, won't we?" Charge turned to the stormtroopers. "Take them away."

/  
authors note

if you are confused please read episides I and II. Also I own none of this, the mouse does. Please reviews are always appreciated.


	2. Prologue Cresh

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Trans-Canada Highway, Canmore, Alberta, North American Union

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Cale Mallory's legs no longer ached like they had at the beginning of their trek across Canada's seemingly endless plains. Not even the 4,000 meter climb up the eastern side of the Canadian Rockies they had undertaken in the past two days had put a damper on the seventeen year old rifleman's spirits.

He was heading to war. And like his older brother, Justin, he would become a hero.

The last he had heard about his Ranger brother was that he had survived the Battle of LA as a combat veteran.

Well, Cale considered himself a combat veteran also. His regiment had taken part in clearing the streets of the Winnipeg ruins from looters and street gangs that had taken over the city for several months after the aliens had destroyed it from orbit.

The 134th Infantry Regiment had been formed in Minnesota by draftees from across the upper mid-west. Cale had been living with his family in Camp Chicago after they had fled Detroit, when he had been conscripted. His mother had cried but his father had only shook his hand and told him to take care of himself. Cale thanked God, that his parents had been assigned by FEMA for agricultural and recovery work back around Detroit. They had been evacuated from that nightmare of a refugee camp two weeks before the massive barrage from the enemy orbital navy had been unleashed. The Camp Chicago massacre, as it was called by every news service from coast to coast, was the biggest war crime disaster of the Empire War after the destruction of all the cities on the first day.

The regiment had undergone two weeks of what Cale considered grueling basic training before they were issued their bicycles and trucks. Heavy equipment and supplies were hauled by two dozen heavy 'Deuce and a halves', three of which were the new trucks with hydrogen fuel cells, while the remainder were hybrids. Cale smiled with pride when he learned the three advanced trucks were made in his home state in a secret underground factory somewhere outside Pontiac, Michigan.

With the severe shortages of fuel the Union was suffering the average infantaryman wasn't deemed important enough to rate a ride on a truck west to fight the invaders. And so columns of thousands of them bicycled, marched or in a few cases rode horses west.

Like most American teenagers born after the connected smart vehicle law in 2019, Cale had no idea how to drive a non AI-guided vehicle even if he had wanted to. The novelty of riding a bike across the country was an amazing adventure. If only the aliens hadn't made it so difficult. Every bridge and overpass had been destroyed, making river crossings dangerous at best. Sometimes there would be stretches of highway for dozens of miles that were left cratered for no reason Cale could imagine, other than to prove the aliens were a nuisance hundreds of miles from the front. That the destruction was deliberate and left large swaths of the country cut off from each other didn't even occur to the young soldier.

Every night they bivouacked alongside the highway. After establishing a perimeter and setting out guards the raw recruits were in for several more hours of drill under the watchful eyes of their sergeants and officers. Some of the officers were veterans of the South American War a decade ago. Some had recently faced the ETs in LA.

He felt Winnipeg had bloodied the regiment. He hadn't had to use his weapon against the so-called Warlords of Winnipeg but he had watched as artillery rained down on the gang-bangers. They had lost two men to street fighting and another three to booby traps that the hold-outs had left behind. Cale had thought the fight was intense but his sergeant had said it wasn't much of much compared to the ETs. He told Cale Winnipeg should have been left to the Canadian Force Reserve or the Police, not front line infantry units who had better things to do.

Fortunately, hold-outs and gangs were rare. Most of the Canadian population seemed generally excited to see the troops going off to face the enemy. He got the impression that the columns of soldiers were the only traffic moving along the highways these days. It seemed every small town they passed through would turn out as if the soldiers were in a parade.

The Canadians shared food with them and sneaked alcohol to the regular soldiers when they thought their sergeants weren't looking. Some of the population thanked the soldiers in a more basic way. If a friendly Canuck girl or two showed up looking for him one day, Cale wouldn't be surprised.

Now, several weeks after trudging across the prairie wastelands, the snow-capped peaks of the Canadian Rockies lay ahead of them. Their objective for the next day or so was the town of Banff. Beyond Banff lay British Columbia, where their orders were to reinforce the NAU lines north of Vancouver from an Alaskan attack and, if at all possible, liberate Juneau.

Cale didn't like the idea of fighting the traitors in Alaska, not when the ETs were down south. But his sergeants didn't ask his opinion. Instead they droned on and on about how a soldier's duty was to follow orders. Thank God it was summer. Cale hoped to be out of Alaska by the time winter came around. Hopefully the misguided Alaskans would throw that idiot Palin out on his ass before the offensive ever got underway.

Cale had just maneuvered around yet another sporadic phaser hole in the highway when the column was ordered to halt. He was close enough to the lead of the column to see the roadblock that was situated across both sides of the highway. Royal Canadian Mounted Police manned the barricade. Cale watched his regiment's Colonel get out of one of the lead humvees and go forward to talk with the police force.

"Dismount." Orders rang out from along the column. Cale wasted no time getting off his bicycle. His sergeant directed his platoon into a shady spot in a ditch near where the Colonel was talking to the RCMP officers. Cale downed some water and pulled out his lunch, a spaghetti MRE. Many soldiers did the same.

"You need to turn your soldiers around and go back to Calgary. This road is closed by orders of the President of the NAU and the Prime Minister of Canada." A RCMP officer told the Colonel. Cale snorted at the man's thick Canadian accent.

"Calgary! That's fifty miles back and it took us three days to get through it because the ETs blew it to hell and gone last spring." The Colonel shouted.

"We know about that but there's nothing we can do about it. Nobody is allowed to get through to Banff except CDC medical workers."

"I have orders to get these men onto Vancouver. What's so Goddamn important in Banff that my men can't get through?"

"Martian Plague, that's what's so damn important! It's breaking out all over the northwest thanks to all those refugees from LA."

That shut the Colonel up for a minute. The rumors of the new plague had reached the men of the 138th even in the barren Canadian prairie. The stories told of coughing spasms and festering wounds that caused great pain before killing the victims. The words 'plague ahead' raced down the column. Some soldiers looked as if they were about to flee from the RCMP's warning alone. Cale looked to his sergeant for guidance.

The older soldier whispered, "The Colonel will find a way around. Don't worry."

"You are the commander of the 138th Infantry correct?" The police officer asked the Colonel.

"That would be me."

"You have been expected. Communication came sputtering back after the aliens disappeared last night. We made contact with your superiors down south and were sent a message to give you." The policeman handed the Colonel an envelope.

Cale watched as his commander removed a sheet of paper and read. Several of his staff officers looked over his shoulders and shook their heads. One of them cursed. Another one got a fierce expression on his face.

"About time," he said. "gather the men."

"Form up!"

Men raced up from all along the column and formed neat ranks in front of the Colonel. Cale looked at the barricade, from behind which the RCMP watched the gathering troops nervously. They had to realize that they were severely outnumbered and if the heavily armed soldiers decided to force their way past the roadblock they didn't stand a chance.

"Men of the 138th, we have new orders." The Colonel shouted and raised the piece of paper above his head. "We're going to backtrack a ways to Calgary."

Murmurs of disapproval raced through the ranks. Cale didn't want to go backwards, either. Ahead of him lay glory.

"We're going back to Highway 2 and taking it south. We're no longer ordered to face off against the Alaskans. Instead we're going to the big show! We're going to Las Vegas to kill us some ETs!"

Shouts and whoops of joy arouse from the ranks. Soldiers patted each other on the backs as if they had just won the Superbowl.

Cale thought about the change in orders. If his brother was still alive he'd be in Vegas. It'd be great to see him again.

"Remember," The Colonel continued, "They say what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. The only things from Mars that are staying in Vegas are dead ETs. We're going to kill them all!"

That elicited more cheers from the recruits. Cale's were some of the loudest.

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G50 Expressway, Huzhou, People's Republic of China, Earth

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Corporal Malm was nervous, which was a welcome distraction from the continuous rage he had felt for the last couple of weeks.

The cause of his anxiety sat in the driver's seat next to him. Deck Chief Zhell was patiently guiding their massive walker down the cratered Chinese roadway. "Nothing like a little on-the-job training, huh, Luke?"

"No, there's not, Corporal. But if it was all the same to you I'd rather have Corporal Dusel back behind the controls." The young trooper responded. He was so new he still hadn't been issued proper pilot gear to replace his Deck Chief uniform.

Malm checked to make sure he was only speaking through his helmet's audicasters. Who knew who was listening in on comm calls these days. "No offense, kid, but so would I."

The arrest and incarceration of their former driver had shocked the crew of Monkey 9. Even their normally silent and stern commander, Major Wells, had shown signs of anger. The sound of the commander's teeth grinding came from behind the two army pilots.

Dusel's supposed charges had been treason and dereliction of duty but several witnesses to the event had informed Malm through informal channels that Dusel had been responsible for breaking up a massacre of Chinese civilians during the drive to secure their southern flank. Evidently his friend had gotten on the wrong side of one of the Empire's new Commissars. In line with the inherent evil Malm had discovered in the Old Empire long ago, he loathed the new Empire's enforcers. The so-called Loyalty Officers complied with everything Theater Commander Seco passed down from above. They had been arresting troopers for everything from not shining your boots well enough to moving too slowly into line.

Every trooper outside of Target West was too busy looking over their own shoulders to pay much attention to the Chinese Army facing them. Luckily for the Imperials the Chinese had turned on themselves during the past month. Civil War had torn through the countryside while the Empire's troopers consolidated their defensive lines after being forced back from the flooded Yangtze River during the last monsoon.

A buzz on the hyperwave alerted Malm to a new comm. "New orders of the day, sir." Malm turned to Wells. He printed out a flimsi and handed it to his commander.

Wells skimmed through the orders. His eyes grew wider and wider as he read. Malm couldn't be sure but he swore Wells whispered the word, "Seneschal?"

"Gunner, are you aware Moff Seco, excuse me, Seneschal Seco, has ordered the initiation of Military Tribunals to begin today in Target West?" Wells said when he finished reading the orders.

"No, sir. "I understood he's been putting them off." Malm answered.

"An incredible waste of military resources."

"As you say, sir." Malm said.

"Driver, would you say that you are not properly trained?" Wells asked Zhell.

"To be honest, sir, I'm not sure how I haven't tipped us over by now." Luke replied.

"Gunner, patch me through to Monkey 1." The commander ordered.

"Yes, sir." Malm switched comm channels on the console holoimager. A second later the holoimage of High Colonel Jade appeared.

"Monkey 9, what is your status?" Jade asked.

"Sir, we have cracked repulsor-transfer cases in three of our walker's four ankle joints." Wells said. Malm spun his head around to face his commander knowing full well their walker had no such damage.

"That bad, huh?" Jade said. Suddenly Monkey Force's commissar was standing next to the High Colonel. "What do you want to do about it?"

"Requesting permission to fall out of the line and return to Garrison for repairs. We can't do anything about that damage out here in the field. We'd also like to requisition a new Driver while we're back at base." Wells requested.

The three crewman patiently waited as Jade explained the malfunction to the Commissar. Finally the political officer nodded his assent and walked away from the holoprojector. "Looks like we'll have to do without you for a few days. The Army has been ordered to hold in place, so now looks like the best time for you to get back and make repairs. Be careful though, there are rumors an uprising is in the works back at Target West. Could get sticky rather quick."

"Thank you, sir. We won't be gone long." Wells said.

"I hope not." Jade suddenly whispered, "The Original Light only knows what laser-brained scheme this fool, Seco, has got cooking for us next. Monkey 1 out." The blue figure vanished from their console.

"Sir, my sensors aren't registering any . . ." Zhell looked confused.

"Your sensors are experiencing a glitch. What you want to tell our commander is your estimated time of travel to Garrison Complex West 4 in Target West?" Malm cut the substitute driver off. Wells gave Malm a knowing look. Malm nodded in understanding.

"Oh, well, um. I'd say we can get there in seven hours standard at patrol speed." Luke replied.

"Excellent. Driver, move out." Wells ordered and then turned and disappeared down the hull access tunnel.

"We really going to go get a new pilot, Corporal?" Zhell asked Malm.

Malm watched the road ahead with a new determination in his eyes, "No, we're going to retrieve our old one."

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Lobby Security Checkpoint, Tarkin Tower, Culter City, Mars

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The front atrium and reception areas of the military complex were in a state of chaos and confusion. Culter City RescueOps and the burn-off brigade rushed through the lobby, hauling repulsor lifts of heavy fire-fighting equipment. Field medics yelled at beings to clear the way as they brought down wounded from the disaster currently happening high above.

Colonel Katarn made his way outside, along with the Devaronian, Commissioner Jord'Dan of the Culter City Guard. They had stayed at each other's sides throughout the day's events. Once outside the bright Martian sun revealed long lines of officers and personnel from the military headquarters boarding a dozen heavily guarded gravtrucks. They were all prisoners that had been swept up in the long lists of names issued under Operation Diathim's arrest orders.

Along the roadway stormtroopers pulled strings of razor teeth wire into place as they set up barricades in front of the building. Civilians hurried by, trying to pretend they hadn't seen anything. Years of Imperial rule had taught them to mind their own business. A fine mist fell on the scene from the RescueOps crews fighting the fire several kilometers above them.

"Something's not right here." Katarn said to his peer.

"You're telling me. I've never seen anything so . . . vague during my entire time in the CCG."

"Military protocol dictates we should receive orders in writing. Isn't it that way with you civies?" Katarn asked.

Jord'Dan nodded that it was so. "Instead this Captain Charge has all of my officers and deputies hopping all over the city terrifying everyone. We don't watch ourselves we could set off an uprising. Emperor Yos was extremely popular with the beings."

"You saw the body then?"

"Yes. He's gone." Jord'Dan sighed.

"Since that is the case, then we've got to just keep following orders as they're presented to us. Captain Charge far outranks me."

A red-armored CCG trooper walked up and handed Jord'Dan a note. The Commissioner dismissed the trooper and unfolded the flimsiplast. Comm signals were still being jammed across the city by the Royal Guard for some as yet unknown reason so those in charge has resorted to written notes.

"Good news?" Katarn asked.

"No. It seems Princess Phasma was attacked in Tarkin's Square at the same time that the bomb went off in the Emperor's briefing."

"Yes, Captain Charge has already announced her death."

"I sent my men in to secure the scene. The young Princess was nowhere to be found but my men did find the bodies of several dozen Loag, half a dozen Royal Guardsmen, including a few of the Princess's handmaidens, and the remains of the Mayor." Jord'Dan revealed. "They also sent me this message by secure courier that they found the decapitated corpses of two unknown individuals wearing CCG uniforms at the site."

Katarn signalled for the other officer to fall silent as another courier approached. This one was from his own unit. The stormtrooper saluted and gave his report. "Sir, we've just received orders from the acting Director of the Bureau of Operations. The Legion is to blockade the Kuati Research Quarter and place Moff Kuat under arrest." Katarn returned the salute and dismissed the runner, then stroked his chin in silent contemplation.

"What is it, Colonel?" Jord'Dan asked.

"Something just doesn't feel right about all of this. I would hate to find I'm being taken advantage of." Katarn replied.

"A coup, you think?" Jord'Dan realized.

"Of that I am certain. What I can't say is which side we're on." Katarn indicated his personal airspeeder. "Get in."

They entered the backseat of the vehicle. Katarn leaned forward and spoke to his driver, "Take us to Moff Kuat's residence. Be quick about it." The airspeeder took off with a lurch. A wave of gravtrucks filled with heavily-armed stormtroopers followed in their wake.

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Command Bridge, Imperial II-class SD Quill, Equatorial Orbit, Mars

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"Still nothing?" Lieutenant Commander Vertitus asked the sailor manning the CommScan station.

The crewman looked up from the crew pit. "Sorry, sir. We're trying to burn through that jamming station on the surface but they've blocked almost everything from getting out from near Martian orbit."

"And your certain it's the Royal Guard who's executing the jamming?" The Quill's Bridge Commander, an officer that went by Gentis, asked.

"The signal is extremely powerful but we've been able to deduce that it is emanating from the Royal Guard billets attached to the Imperial Palace. They also seem to have secured the HoloNet's broadcasting station within the capital."

"Are they saying anything?" Vertitus asked before Gentis could. Captain Nake and several other officers had been caught at a meeting within the capital when the emergency arose and command of the Star Destroyer had been confused and fluid ever since another Star Destroyer had blasted upon them. The Bridge Commander had the same rank as him but had increasingly deferred to him during the crisis. Vertitus happily took the reins.

Vertitus's gut burned with anger whenever he thought of the traitors aboard the Insertion, which had executed an escape to Earth during the confusion. Vertitus suspected the renegade warship had been welcomed with open arms when it reached the war-stricken world. Somebody was moving against the government and every sign Vertitus had seen pointed in one direction: Moff Seco.

"Just to stand by for further broadcasts. And they're asking for the continued loyalty of every true being of the Empire who stands by the House of Yos." The sailor answered.

"So is the Emperor alive or not?" Vertitus asked in growing irritation. He hated being left in the dark.

"They're not saying." The crewman answered, knowing that all eyes on the bridge were on him. "I will continue to monitor all channels."

"You do that." Vertitus said and moved away from the crew pit.

"We've got Laser-Aimed Ship-to-Ship commo with the KDY driveyard and the nearby Charger." Gentis reported.

"Do they know any more than we do?"

"No, the commander of the Charger is suspecting a coup against the crown."

Vertitus nodded. "We need to start gathering the lost herd. Wrangle in the lost nerf, as it were."

"Your orders, sir?" Gentis asked on behalf of the _Quill's_ crew.

"Which starships are detached from the Fleet around Earth at the moment?" Vertitus asked.

"Most of the Subterrel Squadron is currently on independent missions. The Flood and the Slash are both on anti-pirating picket duty in the Phasma Belt. The Charger was the first warship to be allocated the hypermatter that they just completed onloading at the driveyards. And then the Senate and the Immobile were maintaining sentry duties at the tibanna factory on Earth 5. Unfortunately the Battle of Geonosis is on station above Earth and who knows if we can contact her. Oh, also a dozen or so smaller frigates and cruisers are here at the driveyards or protecting miners out in the Kuiper Belt." The other officer reported.

"Interesting. Get someone out of jamming range and recall them all to this position." Vertitus ordered.

"Yes, sir. But why?"

"Because the Empire has gone to war with itself."

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Lake Mead Boulevard, north of Frenchman Mountain, Nevada, NAU

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A menacing M1A2 SEPTUSK Abrams blocked the road ahead of the rangers. Soldiers at the checkpoint waved them over to a waiting medical screening station.

Sergeant Cortez was thankful for the stop. His dogs were barking after the three day march. Another hour or so and they'd be within Las Vegas' city limits.

What was left of his platoon of Rangers stretched out along the mountain pass. The absence of bitching and gripes showed just how exhausted his commandos were. They didn't even complain as the field medics at the checkpoint insisted on taking a blood sample from every soldier before they continued forward.

The officer in charge of the roadblock came up to Cortez. "We're running the blood now, sergeant. Won't be long till you're on your way."

"Don't worry about me, sir. I'm in no hurry to throw down with the ETs again." Cortez looked up at the officer for a moment, studying his weathered features. The man nodded. It was obvious that Cortez's unit had been through hell even without Cortez telling him that. They had spent the last three weeks harassing the enemy's supply column that ran all the way back to LA.

The officer took a small box from a pocket on his body armor, "Cigarette?"

"Thanks, sir." Cortez said and read the officer's name tab: Beiber. "Hey, didn't you used to be somebody?"

"Maybe twenty some years ago. Now I'm just a damn Canuck conscript like a million other guys." The officer responded and lit their cigarettes with a fancy zippo lighter.

Cortez shrugged. None of them were the same as they had been before the Empire came, that was for sure. "Why all the blood work?" Cortez pointed at the medics. "Some nasty puta giving all the boys VD?"

"I wish. Some bad-ass bug is going around. Word going around is we got it from the ETs. Lots of soldiers in the rear are coming down with some kind of festering skin disease. Been reports of it in refugee camps back east, too. Whole units have been taken out of the line." Beiber said.

Cortez let out an appreciative whistle, "That bad, huh? Skin disease, like eczema or something?"

"A lot worse, like, fatally worse. It's got the fucking brass freaked out. They keep using words like Spanish Flu or Smallpox whenever they think we grunts aren't listening."

"So are the trenches in the front line safe?" Cortez asked, watching Corporal Mallory across the road wince as a medic took his sample from his arm. "The ETs don't use as much shit-eating gas or biologics like we do."

"No one really knows. That's why we're screening here. Wouldn't do for a pandemic to break out amongst the Army." the officer grinned, "As for the front line being safe, well, you look like you'd know better than most just how safe butting heads with the ETs can be." The officer pointed to the smoking ruins a few miles off on the horizon.

The landscape was a far cry from when Cortez had last been in the city seven years ago on leave. Las Vegas had been pounded flat by the artillery and air forces of both armies fighting over the skeletal remains of what had once been dubbed America's Playground.

"You know if I didn't know any better I'd say the ETs' air cover is pretty fucking light today. They weren't keeping this small a number of their fighters over their supply lines out in the desert." Cortez observed.

The officer turned and scratched the stubble on his chin. With a look of confusion he pulled a scope from his leg pouch and pointed it towards the battle. "That's god damn weird, sergeant. Usually those 'H' fighters are buzzing over Sin City like a thick cloud of vultures. Now I'm only making out a few flights of them patrolling over the Strip."

"That's the part of the city they hold, right?" Cortez had heard rumors about how the battle was being fought on their march in from the desert. "Maybe somebody should light a fire under the Air Forces ass to do something about it."

"Somebody damn well should. God knows we've moved a hell of a lot of troops into the city in the past week. As for the Strip, aliens tried to do two things at once, encircle the city and drive straight up the middle. The minute things got rough for the ETs they stopped trying to envelope the city and decided to take it to the street. They started from the south and took most of Las Vegas Boulevard but we stopped them at the Wynn and the SLS Vegas and we've fortified the shit out of the old Stratosphere Casino. Besides the southeast neighborhoods we still hold most of the city. They're pushing forward but it's at a crawl now, not a blitzkreig."

"I hope we killed a bunch of the alien shitheads when we did it."

"Not so many of them as they killed of us. If we didn't lose thirty or forty guys for every one of theirs I'd be really, really surprised." The officer admitted reluctantly. "But we gave them hell. The guys at the front say it took the ET's a week to take LA but it took them a week to cross the street in Vegas." Beiber smiled at his joke.

A medic walked up and told something to Beiber just out of Cortez's earshot. The officer nodded before turning to the Ranger. "Sergeant, it looks like you and your men check out. You can go on by. About half a klick up the road there's a unit of MPs that will show you into the line."

"I don't know if I should thank you, sir, the fight being what it is and all." Cortez slowly stood up and brushed the dust off of his pants. He slung his rifle back over his shoulder. Alongside the road Rangers started standing after seeing his example. They knew it was time to hit the road again.

"Send 'em to hell, sergeant." The officer saluted.

Cortez saluted back. "From the looks of Vegas I'm not sure if the ETs will be able to tell the difference."

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Masterton, Occupied New Zealand, Earth

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Clone Marshall Commander Bly looked out at the camp with quiet pride. The camp was spread out along the Highway 2 from the Carterton Golf Course to the Tauherenikau Racecourse and filled to the brim with almost two hundred thousand earthlings.

It wasn't the vast horde of abos that impressed him, it was the subterfuge Bly and his vode had undertaken to complete the task of caring for all of them. The abos in the camps had been gathered under the guise of Operation Piper as slave labor for monumental terraforming projects on Mars. Piper had been slowed by an outbreak of an Earth malady of some sort and since its resumption most of the labor units had been pulled from the United Protectorate on the other side of this world.

The sounds of hammers and workmen drew Bly's attention. Most of the earthlings, Kiwis they called themselves, were refugees of the city of Wellington to the southeast. The clonetroopers of the 212th Assault Legion were now under the nominal command of Bly, but in reality in the clutches of a sleemo Commissar by the name of Major Hurler. The silver lining was that Hurler cared about one thing only these days: the capture of Bly's vod, Marshall Commander Cody, who had gone AWOL shortly after defending Kiwi civilians from an Australian missile attack almost a month ago.

As long as Bly was continuing to send out patrols to beat the bushes and search the countryside for his errant brother Major Hurler didn't pay any attention to what the Marshall Commander was doing in this camp.

The refugees here were geniuses at building pre-fab housing units they called double-wide trailers and had covered the valley floor with thousands of them. The 212th's Combat Engineers had been assigned to the camp and had constructed medical facilities, safe water and sanitation utilities, and even a smart power grid based off the earthlings possession of a large amount of solar panels and wind turbines. The refugees were allowed to leave on pass to work and most of them came back every night. The Kiwis had even asked for assistance in building a school for their younglings. Bly thought school was a poor substitute for flash-training but he wasn't there to judge.

He smiled at the ruse again. Partisan activity and being bombers had almost vanished across the island in the past few weeks, which gave his vode a much-needed break. But the best part was pulling the nerf wool over the Commissar's eyes. To Hurler this place looked like another concentration camp, ready to be swept up to fulfill the Empire's needs, and so he never gave it a second thought when the camp grew exponentially larger every day, even when the clones weren't being ordered to partake in slave sweeps.

And the day he orders me to send them to Mars I'll drop the fences, recall the guards and let the abos fend for themselves, Bly told himself. Cody was right in wanting no more part in all of this.

The Jedi had a saying during the Clone Wars, "speak of the Sith-Lord and he shall appear". Bly recalled the odd phrase when he saw the Commissar's Death Engine enter the camp. The large repulsor vehicle was called the Crab due to the twin pair of pincer-like projections mounted on its front. By now the Kiwis knew what the strange looking vehicle meant and just like Hurler's previous appearances inside the camp they made themselves scarce in a hurry. Bly smiled, knowing that the Death Engine was the recipient of almost daily missile and roadway bomb attacks. One of these days he hoped the Kiwis got lucky.

The Death Engine glided to a stop in front of Bly and his aides. The hatch on the well-protected command cockpit lifted, allowing the nasty little Commissar to exit. Because he still refused to don stormtrooper armor, the Commissar's gray uniform made for a conspicuous target.

Inside his helmet Bly's jaw dropped when he saw what was following the Loyalty Officer out of his monstrous contraption. If he wasn't seeing it with his own eyes he'd never believe it. It was a real-life Mandalorian verd in beskar'gam emerging from the Death Engine. A lifelong profession involving the intricate study of armor told him the Mando'ad was most definitely female.

A Trandoshan, along with a clanker of the IG assassin droid series followed behind the Mando. The way she carried herself signified to everyone watching that she was the one in charge.

"Beroya." One of his aides said in astonishment.

"Yes, bounty hunters. Let me do all the talking." Bly told his troopers as the party approached.

"CC-5052, I have come for a status report on the hunt for the aberrant clone CC-2224." Hurler demanded. An hour ago an order had come down from FleetOps that Commissar officers were to review all orders before they were issued, effectively putting them in charge. Evidently, Hurler wasn't wasting any time.

"Major, my scouts have reported a possible sighting by one of the indigenous population of Clone Marshall Commander Cody six hours ago in the Kaweka National Forest. This is in concordance with other sighting reports that he is operating in the area around the city of Napier." Bly repeated the official report he had sent to Hurler's office several hours ago. It was a lie and Bly knew it. The truth was Cody was probably in the northwest around the city of Auckland. Almost two dozen clones had disappeared in that area in the past week, leaving signs that they had joined their former commander in the wilderness of the North Island. Bly had yet to report one of them AWOL and he didn't intend to.

The Mando female cocked her head in his direction as if she was carefully analyzing his every syllable.

"Yes, you reported that. Send three more companies to scour that area." Hurler ordered, no longer bothering with the illusion of a formal request.

"It shall be done." Bly replied and motioned at one of his aides to send the order that would undoubtedly waste three more companies' time.

"Also you are to hand over everything you have on his whereabouts to these bounty hunters." Hurler waved a hand at the trio. "They will be undertaking a hunt of their own."

"The Navy must be paying well, Major. I wouldn't have thought you could afford the services of the Martian Bounty Hunter's Guild." Bly jibed.

"He can't. Our services were secured by an interested private party on Mars, vod." The Mando stepped forward and spoke for the first time. Her voice through her helmet was a haunting echo of his lost home world, a world he had never set foot upon: Mandalore.

"Su'cuy, I am Bly of Kamino. I am Mando'ad, as are my vode here and the brother you seek. Who are you to hunt my ori'vod?" Bly asked. He glanced at Hurler, who looked uncomfortable with the Mando'a being thrown around. Bly couldn't care less.

"I am Nichole Felk, ad of the Cuy'val Dar, Hota Felk."

Bly remembered her father, one of the Mandalorians hired by Jango Fett to train the clones on Kamino. He had been an artillery specialist and Bly recalled the first time he had undergone her father's live-fire training exercise. The impacts of the incoming rounds had thrown his training squad like Tooka dolls. He had been two years old at the time but Hota had taught them how to get through it. "I knew your buir. A good man."

"A good man who abandoned me and my mother for ten years to train you clones." Anger marked her words for a moment. "That was a long time ago, though."

"Kamino was a lifetime ago." Bly offered.

"No worries, long memory, short fuse." She offered. Hurler was in a huff they were ignoring him, which didn't bother Bly in the least. "All you need to know is your brother has a bounty on his head and I'm the one that's going to collect."

Bly believed her.


	3. Prologue Besh

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12 miles northeast of Yermo, Upper California, NAU

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The F-22 driver pushed his Raptor like a bat out of hell. The Mojave desert fifty feet below him passed by as a blur.

He cautiously checked for his wingman on his six. The F-18 Super Hornet was still there. There wasn't much sense radioing the other fighter or the bombers they were escorting. This close to the ETs' supply channel up the I-15 corridor almost every electronic signal was jammed out of existence by the enemy's superior tech.

The Pratt & Whitney engines pushed his aircraft past Mach 2. Speed would be his only friend if the enemy's dreaded 'H' fighters showed up.

"Where are you sons-of-bitches?" He wondered aloud.

He had never been this close to their lines without being intercepted by one of their squadrons, or worse, pounced upon from space by those six-wing bastards the ETs kept in orbit. He veered away from the ruins of Barstow, where it was known the Imps kept several batteries of far-too-effective laser flak batteries.

He waved his hand at his wingman and then pointed up. The other pilot signaled back with a thumbs up. The Raptor pilot wondered if these were his last moments. Air combat losses had been so severe and one-sided that American pilots now said their goodbyes to each other before their missions.

"Dammit, focus. Thoughts like that can make you buy the farm in a hurry against these guys." He chided himself as he pulled back on the stick.

The two fighters climbed for altitude and hopefully a greater vantage point. The blackened desert spread out below them. Their job on this mission was to act as spotters for a bomber group coming up behind them. If they located anything they were to fly over the target, pop flares and provide cover for the slower attack planes as they made their run.

His eyes spotted movement over towards Barstow to the west before he was even a mile into the air. At least one pair of H fighters flew patrol over the city. "Just mind your own business for another minute or two, you ET shit heads."

There. Something was moving along the interstate to the east of them. He pushed the stick hard to the left and banked the fighter towards the ground vehicles. The sudden turn allowed him to glimpse the seven bombers coming out of the mountains to the north. They were barreling down on him as fast as they could. If they pulled this off they would have to clear out of Dodge in a hurry.

Two looming monsters rose up out of the desert. Every pilot in the Air Force knew their alien names by now, A-T-A-Ts, but every groundpounder called them Charlie-Whiskey or camel walker. In between the two massive machines was a line of a dozen floating trucks. The soft-skin transports were slow and laden with supplies destined for the battle raging in Las Vegas.

"The hell they are." The pilot whispered as he activated his weapons. He fired his flares.

The Charlie-Whiskies noticed him and his partner much too late for it to do them any good. The big machines lurched to the side as the transports attempted to scatter. As the distance to the targets rapidly decreased he could see tiny white figures jumping from the cabs of several of the vehicles.

He opened up with his 20mm Vulcan gatling gun on the lead transport. The alien vehicle's cab shattered as the high velocity rounds tore into it, turning the engine block and its alien driver into Swiss cheese.

He was moving too fast to turn onto another target. Instead he toggled the weapons' control and dropped his aircraft's bomb load of a single GBU-39. The small munition bomb landed squarely behind the remains of the first vehicle and impacted with the second floating truck's hood. The resulting explosion vaporized the vehicle and its load of ET supplies while shredding the next two vehicles in the column with searing hot metal fragments.

An explosion near the rear of the column signified a successful run by his wingman. Knowing it was suicide to make another attack run, they hugged the ground as they raced south. The pilot swore his Raptor clipped the tops of several cacti as they went by. A few errant laser bolts shot over his plane and he wished he could put his aircraft even lower.

One mile from the target he turned east and witnessed several mushrooming clouds erupt from the freeway as the bombers made their run. The enemy column was obliterated in a heartbeat. Enemy supply drivers simply vanished from existence as the heavy ordnance rained down upon them. Surviving ETs caught fire as the asphalt of the interstate melted underneath their feet for almost three hundred yards.

The seven bombers waggled their wings in victory as they raced to join their fighter escort as they fled north again. All that was left were the two angery Charlie-Whiskeys that had failed to protect their charges. The pilot wished that the bombs had made a dent in their armor but so far he had heard nothing short of a nuke would take the bastards out.

His head swiveled to the west again and he could make out several of the H fighters sortieing out of Barstow. He wondered why there weren't more. Usually they buzzed around the supply line like flies on potato salad. Well, at least this time they had enough of a head start to get away from the ETs. He knew from experience they usually didn't pursue American fighters once they hit the mountains.

Behind him long smoke columns marked the death of the Imperial column. "I love the smell of burning ETs in the morning. It smells like victory."

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Picket Line, Subterrel Squadron Rendezvous Point, Midway between Mars and Phasma Belt

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"Tighten up, Belly Runner and Wampa, you're flying for the Mynocks not the kriffing Howlrunners." Striker barked into his flight comm. This far from Mars communication systems had finally overcome the intense jamming the Royal Guard was emitting from their base in the capital.

He watched as the two errant fighters returned to their place in formation. Their normal carrier, the Quill, hadn't wanted to risk leaving Mars unprotected while they met up with the scattered ships of the Subterrel Squadron. Along with the Charger the damaged flagship was all that stood between Mars and the traitors serving Moff Seco around Earth. Instead the Mynocks were escorting two Lancer-class frigates, the Vahl and the Lord Hoth, on their mission to recall the remnants of the Emperor's personal squadron.

Striker still couldn't believe it. A few hours ago Imperials had blasted upon Imperials. He had even vaped a TIE Starfighter from the Insertion when the Star Destroyer had made its escape. The older model of TIEs were no match for the nimble new Interceptors and the vapefight had been a one-sided affair. "A stoopa affair, if there ever was one." Striker said.

"What was that, boss?" his new panelman, Zap, asked.

"Nothing, just counting asteroids." Striker responded. He was still getting accustomed to being in charge of an entire squadron. He missed his former panelman, Bloodstripe, Roblin had been bumped up and given an entire wing. And at the moment he was commanding the squadrons protecting Mars from the expected assault by Seco's forces.

"Vahl Task Force, this is Subterrel Battle Group." A voice cut across the highly-encrypted channel Striker was monitoring. Striker recognized the IFF code of the sender. It was coming from the bridge of the Imperial-class Star Destroyer Flood.

He peered out into the void towards the diminished asteroid belt. Ghostly gray forms slowly became identifiable shapes as they approached. The colossal warship led a column of three more battle wagons emerging from the direction of Earth 5.

"Subterrel, this is Vahl Task Force, go ahead." The Captain of the nearby Lancer responded.

"Vahl, asking for confirmation of rumors of initiation of Operation Diathim?" The Flood asked.

"Diathim initiation is confirmed. Acting commander of Mars Orbital Command has overturned orders. All orders from Theater Command are to be ignored." Vahl reported in short, channel-hopping bursts. Striker listened intently. Volumes were being said with every signal.

"Copy that, Vahl." There was a long pause as the warships approached to within close-battery range. Striker suddenly began to wonder whose side these guys were on. Had these ships been bought the same way most of the Ploo and Kuati Squadrons had? The voice that came on next was full of sorrow, "Is it true?"

Striker knew what the Flood's Captain was asking. A RescueOps signal had escaped the Royal Guard's jamming for a few minutes and confirmed the passing of Emperor Aveo Yos the 1st. It had been a devastating blow to the Mynocks, who had flown escort for the Old Man dozens of times in the past. He had been their Admiral and commander for over a decade and had led them through the 'big jump' and the crippling power outage that had occurred when they had emerged in the Sol System.

"We think so . . ." The voice on the Vahl lost its professionalism, as well, ". . .Yeah, he's gone."

Striker felt his throat close up. He was not prone to sentimentality but Emperor Yos was the Empire. If he was gone, who would lead them now? Not Seco and the kriffing back stabbers on the Insertion, he fumed.

"Vahl Task Force, permission to pass you to port." The Flood requested.

Striker thought the request was odd. Why would the Star Destroyer want to come alongside the smaller frigates? The four large warships would make bantha meat of Striker and his escorts if they meant ill. After suffering one surprise attack today the TIE pilot was on edge for another trap.

"Permission granted." The Vahl responded. The Lancer moved in line with her sister, the Lord Hoth. The two Lancers looked miniscule next to the approaching gray behemoths. The Lord Hoth flashed her running lamps twice, Attention to Port.

Suddenly all four of the crawling Star Destroyers lit up stunning search lamps from their bridges that shone on their forward hulls. Each beacon was a holograph of the emblem of the Imperial Martian Empire.

"This is Vahl, all crew man the rails." The frigate's captain accidentally broadcast his ship's command across the Task Force's channel but Striker appreciated the command none-the-less.

Every viewport aboard the Flood was open and crammed full of sailors from the mighty Star Destroyer. By the thousands they stood at their rails in their dress grays. As each ship passed the command bridges of the two Lancers the sailors raised their arms in the Imperial salute. When the last ship, the Immobile, passed by, a huge banner could be seen along several viewports in the warship's engineering section. In aurabesh it read: We are with you.

Striker reached his glove up and between his face and his helmet and wiped away a tear. It was one of the most moving moments he had ever felt in the Navy.

Did Moff Seco truly believe he would betray the Empire while men like these opposed him? Seco was a fool not to have attacked as soon as he killed the Emperor. Striker could feel it. The Empire was going to strike back.

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Labor Unit Quarantine and Processing Section, Luna Base, Luna

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After three decades of service in the Republic and then the Imperial Navy, Admiral Neptu was used to things running efficiently and in a shipshape manner. But the excessively sterile environment of the moon base was unsettling.

Aseptic mouse droids followed incessantly in his wake, spreading an anti-viral spray after every one of his foot falls. The corpulent Admiral had already passed through three progressively invasive quarantine levels on his way from the base's landing bay to its central command center. His high-rank allowed him to keep his uniform but every personnel he passed in the migraine-inducing white halls wore a breathing mask as well as precautionary gloves and medical scrubs. No one had dared to enforce such a trifling precaution on him yet.

The Ebola Scare, as it was called when it still made the HoloNews, had come from slaves who had carried the virus through this station. The processing center's commandant hadn't wanted to take any chances since then.

Neptu had another reason for his displeasure. He had been ordered by his Lord, Seneschal Seco, to secure this base for their own purposes before they moved against Yos's loyalists on Mars. It was a task for an errand boy, not the commander of the Ploo Squadron of the Maw Defense Fleet. He should have been at Seco's right hand but instead his place had been taken by that upstart, Eritech.

Neptu seethed when he thought of the undercover agent of the hated and feared Imperial Security Bureau. Besides Seco he was the only being who knew Captain Volt's secret identity. He wondered if he shouldn't let his foe's alias slip to the right officers and sit back and watch them tear him limb to limb. A smile crept across the Admiral's jowls as he advanced upon the command center.

He reached his destination and entered. The command center sat several stories above a sprawling hangar that stretched out for almost three kilometers. Below them arriving shuttles from Earth unloaded prisoners near a large energy shield that protected the hangar from the lack of Lunar atmosphere outside. The prisoners were herded into creeping lines that led into a wide area of medical processing stations. Prisoners who passed the inspections were waiting in a holding area near the end of the hangar near a transport that would soon take them to the labor camp on Mars. Neptu could identify the ones who had passed their screening by the red utility suits they wore.

A fine mist wafted down from sprayers attached to the roof of the hangar. Within the mist was liquified sedative Hb4 spice, which subdued the prisoners as they waited for transport.

All in all the mass below was a mob of miserable looking near-humanity. They screamed and cried as their families were ripped apart by roving guard patrols. Some attacked the guards but resistance was disorganized and the evo-suited armored guards were merciless in subjugating the perpetrators.

Neptu stood waiting in the doorway. An officer turned and recognized him. "Admiral Neptu, this is a surprise. I wasn't notified that there was an inspection scheduled today." The man saluted as the rest of the officers in the command center snapped to attention.

"As you were, Commandant." said Neptu. The personnel in the station relaxed. "I am not here on inspection. I have come to take command of this base to serve at Seneschal Seco's leisure."

"I don't understand. Senes . . . Senes, what? We already fall under the command of Theater Commander Seco. We serve him as we serve the Empire." The Commandant stuttered.

"Then you have not heard of recent events on Mars. The Royal Guard has launched a coup against the Empire. Emperor Yos and Princess Phasma were both assassinated this afternoon. Moff Seco has taken the title Seneschal, or Guardian, of the Empire." Neptu reported loudly, lest anyone misunderstand his declaration. There were several gasps in the control station and to the man they all looked as if the wind had been knocked out of them at the news.

"By the Force, of course we shall follow Moff Seco's command. May he lead us through these dire times." The Commandant said. The man looked like he was going to tear up. Grief was written across his face. Several officers were in the same condition. Loyalty to the old Emperor would take some time to stamp out, Neptu thought.

"I will report your loyalty to the Seneschal. He will be glad to hear of it. Events are fluid in the capital at the moment. You are ordered to ignore any commands issued by the Royal Guard or the Star Destroyer Quill. Is that understood?" Neptu said and walked over to the viewport to gaze upon the crush of near-humanity below. He imagined that he could smell their filth even through several centimeters of transpiriteel.

"Yes, yes, of course." The Commandant said as he stood next to the Admiral.

This was too easy, Neptu thought, a job for an errand boy indeed.

"Who are these beings? And what is their disposition?" He asked the Commandant who was obviously lost in thought concerning Neptu's announcement.

"Oh, them. They are the 14th shipment of labor units from the United Protectorate. Official count is 147,352 processed in the last two days. We were going to start loading them aboard that transport down there," The officer pointed at the large container transport at the far end of the hanger, "in a few hours. They are then to be shipped to Concentration Camp 1138 on Mars for labor distribution. We even have over eleven-hundred viable candidates for Operation Stork. Those prisoners have been segregated from the rest and are being held in that area over there." He pointed to an area midway down the hangar.

Neptu thought of Eritech again. The man had risen in the ranks of their conspiracy so quickly by proving time and time again that he was a man of action. He was willing to sacrifice himself to assassinate the false Emperor and when Neptu had blocked him last month due to his own misgivings Eritech had acted alone and destroyed the off-limit target of a massive refugee camp on Earth's surface. Instead of being punished Seco had entrusted the man with even greater power. Neptu had been pushed aside but he would stand by his Moff once again. He just had to prove that he could be as ruthless as that heartless spy.

"Belay those orders. These prisoners have been deemed a liability by Seneschal Seco. The labor units only serve to benefit traitors who are working against the Empire and have thus been deemed expendable." Neptu said.

"Sir?" The Commandant looked confused.

"Commander, you have certain quarantine protocols in place, do you not?" Neptu asked.

"Of course, especially after the Ebola event. I insisted that we have methods in place to protect my men."

"Honorable. Notify all living personnel to quietly evacuate the hangar and move in more droid units to take their place. Once they have been switched out seal the hangar." Neptu ordered.

"Yes, sir." The Commandant activated the comm station in the room. He switched the signal to the channel that ran to the guard force and medical screeners' internal audicasters. "All personnel of Luna Base, a Level Besh Quarantine has been initialized in the screening center. All crew are ordered to calmly make their way to safe quarantine sectors of this base. All droid units are to report to screening center to assist in maintaining prisoners and security detail."

Neptu could hear the command as it echoed through the base's hallways behind him. The only place it wasn't broadcast openly was on the screening floor before him. Slowly but surely the medics and nurses below vacated the hangar, followed shortly by the guard force. Droid units discretely entered the hanger from side entrances that sealed behind them. Within four minutes the only living beings in the hanger were the near-human earthlings.

"Sir, the quarantine is complete. The transport crew has also sealed up and are asking for orders, sir." The officer reported.

"Have them sit in place for now."

Aye, aye. I can't maintain order in the screening center for very long with only droid units, Admiral."

Neptu got a gleam in his eye and smiled as he looked outside at the cratered lunar surface. "You won't have to. Depower the hangar's outer deflector shield generator."

"What? That's murder, sir." The Commandant gasped. The officers in the control room snapped their heads in Neptu's direction.

"What do you think was happening to these beings once they arrived on Mars? They weren't having tea with Moff Kuat. They were being worked to death in the mines. We are only hastening the inevitable end of their journey by a few weeks." Neptu said.

"I won't do it. I won't be party to this." The Commandant said with a whimper.

"Fierfek, must I do every kriffing thing myself? I should relieve you of your command for gross insubordination." Neptu shoved the officer away from the shield console and deactivated the proper controls.

Outside the viewport the shield vanished, exposing the entire length of the hangar to the sudden vacuum of space.

The beings below were suddenly sucked out of the hangar and blasted out upon the lunar surface like a flechette launcher's slug-spread. The defenestrated near-humans silently screamed in agony as they flew past the viewport, the vacuum sucking away their death rattles along with their bodies. The lower gravity outside allowed them to fall like snowflakes to the gray surface where they impacted in little puffs of lunar dust.

"Interesting. I would have thought there would be more flailing about as they asphyxiated out there." Neptu observed cheerfully. This massacre would surely assure Seco that Neptu would go to great lengths for his Seneschal.

"An ecumenopolis legend, Admiral." The Commandant spoke softly. "That's how defenestrations are always shown on the holodramas. The truth is the majority of those poor beings were killed by embolisms caused by intense pressure change, within a few seconds of exposure, followed by hypoxia and hypocapnia. The remainder probably froze to death before they ever started trying to suck air into their collapsed lungs." The officer couldn't look Neptu in the eyes. Instead he kept them trained on the massacre outside.

"Disappointing. Well, look, there is some movement out there." Neptu pointed. Several shapes were getting up and dusting themselves off.

"Just droids, sir, defenestrated with the rest. You murdered everyone else." The Commander sighed.

Neptu didn't take the comment as an accusation, instead he puffed out his barrel-shaped chest in pride. Surely Seco would reward him for this. "So shall fall all enemies of the True Empire."

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Forward Observation Station, Imperial I-class SD Wilderness, Equatorial Orbit over Mauritania, Earth

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Moff Culter, former Imperial Governor of the Anoat Sector and chief terraformer for Emperors Palpatine and Yos, stared down at the blue and green world beneath him. Never in all his time as the premier terraformer of the Home Galaxy had he ever come across such a diverse planet.

He tried to put that unsettling business with that Kuati Admiral out of his mind. His psyche couldn't wrap itself around the idea that he had been complicit in the man's death. And not only that, but somehow he had also been associated with the assassination of the Princess and Emperor Yos.

He gazed at the ugly, black storms of toxic smoke that swirled over the main continental mass to the north. His ally, Vulnert Seco, had promised him unfettered access to the planet if he lent his military clone forces to Seco's coup attempt. Was killing the Emperor worth saving one planet, he wondered? Was murdering a thousand? Was starting a war and tearing the Empire in half?

He studied the war-torn world he wanted to save a little closer. Facts and figures raced through his mind.

Boreal forest (conifers), temperate forests (hardwoods or mixed conifers), tropical forests, deserts, an alpine zone, grassland, tundra and chaparral, sometimes called shrubland made up the primary Terran biomes. Cities, villages, croplands, rangelands, planted forests and wildlands were the principal Terran near human patterned anthromes.

Back in the Home Galaxy a planet usually had one or two anthromes and if a being hailed from a planet with more than half a dozen it was considered something of an oddity.

But here in the Sol System the old rules vanished out the viewport. If you mixed and matched your anthromes you would get the 679 eco-regions of Earth: 450 on land and 229 marine. Sadly, thirty-five percent of these had been wiped out by the inhabitants of this world before the arrival of the Empire or destroyed by the current war that threatened to choke out all life on the dying planet.

Culter checked numbers on his datapad. 34,850 known species went extinct in the century before the 'big jump'. That extinction event was, and continued to be, the sixth great mass extinction in Earth's history. And that was before the Empire unleashed a single turbolaser bolt.

No extinctions are inevitable, he sadly mused. Everything can be saved. Culter believed he was the innoculant this world needed to save it from itself.

He knew there had been a time three decades ago, in a Terran year named 2005, when the major governing body of this world announced that climate change was happening. Yet the Terrans did nothing. They wasted those precious decades. Now the Empire was here and there was nothing the Terrans could do at their level of technology to save their world while combating the late Emperor Yos's armies. At the minimum they weren't even holding steady and at the maximum they were making it worse.

Seco had promised an end to the war. Peace would give Culter his chance to save a world from extinction.

If not?

He knew what would come in the next year or so if the Empire-Earth war continued. The complete disappearance of the Arctic spring to autumn ice from their northern polar cap, irreversible permafrost and methane release and the unavoidable commitment to major sea level rise. All of the negative trends would combine in 'perfect storm' fashion, leading to a rise in average global temperatures of 5 K standard and a sea level rise of five meters. After that there would be a string of food shortages, mass riots, catastrophic death on all continents and an immense spike in the extinction rates of other species.

Culter knew ways the Terrans could turn this around if the war stopped tomorrow: self-replicating factories, fusion power, strong synthetic biology of their plants and bodies, climate modification efforts that were just barely within their reach, primitive space elevators and rudimentary sublight drives, migration to other worlds that would allow them to mine this system's readily available helium, nitrogen, rare earths, fossil fuels and access photosynthesis.

Culter was no one's fool. He knew Seco had undertaken this coup for political gain and that Culter was a mere pawn to keep the clones in line during the onrushing civil war. Blood would be spilled. Blood had already been spilled. He was part of that now.

He looked down at the blue-green world once more. For the lives of billions the price of one Emperor's life was rather cheap.

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Safe house, The Negs District, Culter City, Imperial Mars.

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It had certainly been one of the oddest weddings Father George had ever presided over. Both the groom and the bride were Ithorians who had insisted on being baptized into the Catholic faith before their nuptials. To Father George they looked like half-man, half-hammerhead shark hybrids, but he could also tell that they were a man and woman very much in love and happy to share their love with Jesus Christ.

Father George generally liked the aliens he met. He had been a fan of science fiction as a kid and had once dreamed of making space movies as a young man. He welcomed all who came and turned no one away.

"God loves variety." George chuckled to himself.

It had been a long, strange day, the earthling thought to himself. Members of his congregation had tried to lead a peace protest along the Yos River Waterfront when an explosion high atop the Tarkin Tower had stunned the city. Martial law had been declared within minutes and not only had members of the red-armored CCG taken to the streets but so had the Home Legion. Wanting to avoid direct confrontation and possible arrest, Father George had rounded up his flock and fled to their safe house here in the Negs.

With martial law falling across the city citizens moved about with extreme caution, if at all. Father George not only had the eight original members of his congregation to care for, but also the thirty-two new members of his growing flock. The Ithorians had wished to go ahead with their wedding, realizing the security clamp-down in the city would keep them all shut in for a few days.

George took it in stride, much as he had since being rescued by pirates out in the asteroid belt and being let free in the city. When he had first arrived he had thought of nothing but making sure his missionary group was safe from being sent back to that hellish work camp on the far side of Mars.

They had lived on the streets for several days. As they had begged for food and work they spoke with many of the aliens and people here in the capital about the teachings of the messiah, Jesus Christ. He hadn't been prepared for how the citizens of the Empire would take to Christianity like a sponge to water.

The Empire was a religious vacuum, George had discovered. There was some reverence to local planetary gods that had come with the Imperials but this was limited to few species and largely ignored by other species. George and his disciples set to teaching Imperials about Jesus and how his love could offer salvation for all who came to know him.

George also came to learn about something called Force-believe, in which most people fervently believed. Supposedly there had been some kind of religion in the government before the Empire. The belief was that there was only a good or bad side and once you died you became part of this Force, which was some kind of life essence that flowed in all living creatures. George thought it was all a lot of superstition. However, when he learned that the previous Emperor had killed off all the priests, called Jedi, of this religious order some thirteen years ago, he knew he couldn't peacefully bring Christianity into the light within the Empire without there being some type of conflict.

He didn't think they were ready for that. He admired the teachings of Ghandi and Martin Luther King Jr. and their advocacy of non-violence. He felt the best way to show Christianity in a positive light was for them to fight for peace. Under the cover of student protests they had helped organize several peaceful marches and sit-ins around the Kuati Research Academy's campus in the past few weeks. While people were protesting the war they were also learning about Jesus Christ and the plan he had for each of them.

People seemed generally interested in Heaven. They had no real concept of an afterlife other than becoming one with the Force, which honestly sounded boring even to George, who didn't like a lot of excitement in his life.

He took as an example the missionary life of Francis of Assissi and sent his original congregation to the far points of the capital and the surrounding farm country. They tried to replicate as much of the Bible as they could from memory and passed out scripture written on the plastic paper Imperial citizens called flimsiplast. Soon many people were coming to their sermons and listening to the word of God.

The belief in the Force was slowly falling away. He could feel Christianity take root in the city. He had feared a Roman-style welcome for the new religion, with Christians being thrown to the Rancors or being covered in pitch and lit aflame to illuminate night time pod races. But with the Jedi gone there was no other religion to contest their rise. Now all we have to do is get Christianity established before Islam or Hinduism sneak into the Empire, he thought.

"Father George! Father George!" Several members of his congregation came through the doors, startling the wedding guests. They located the priest and made a beeline for his table. At their lead was a troubled Pastor Denis Lawson.

"George, there you are. We have something you need to see." Denis said.

"What is it, Denis? Can't you see we're celebrating?" George asked.

"Congratulations." Denis told the bride and groom before setting a device on the table before George. George recognized it as one of those holographic movie players people here used instead of digital video cameras. "We were at the big shindig in Tarkin's Square this afternoon to pass out pamphlets. The Princess was giving a rousing speech when this happened."

Denis activated the device and tiny blue figures moved around a large balcony. There was no sound. George recognized the heir to the Empire, Princess Phasma Yos. Suddenly there was an explosion. Then blaster bullets cut down many of the Princess's guards. Some lizard people attacked the young royal. Just as she looked to be about to be overrun another figure appeared with a pair of flaming swords of some sort. She cut through the attackers like a lawnmower. The hologram was shot from far away and George couldn't be sure but she reminded him of the savage attack aboard the slave freighter and the mysterious figure that had saved their life. The attackers had a leader of their own who hurled herself at the Princess's savior. They raised their hands and pushed each other repelled each other without even coming into contact. Objects moved about against their own volition.

"The Force." The bride whispered in reverent tones and made the sign of the cross.

"Miracles." Denis said as the first warrior dispatched the second and then ran away with the rescued Princess. "And she just saved the Princess." If the rumors about the Emperor are true, The Princess would be hesitant to favor any new religion that appears in the Empire except for a Force-worshiper she owed her life to.

The others' sudden reverence and awe disturbed him. If they wavered in their resolve or had a rival at this point in their church's genesis it could be like the days of the Roman Colosseum all over again, George thought.

"I see no miracles here." He said quickly to cut off any other avenues of thought before they could take hold. "Smoke and mirrors. Simple parlor tricks, is all. She's a magician who has turned the Princess into a rube."

"But the Force is real . . . the Jedi were real." The groom said. George could see the man's faith had been shaken. He needed to squash this quickly.

"These are simple magic tricks and acrobatics. The only true miracles are created by God and his son, Jesus. These people here are nothing more than . . . than . . . witches!"

"Witches?" Someone in the wedding party gasped.

"Denis, the Bible is the ultimate word of God. It is his testament of his love for his children. Us. What does the Bible say we should do about witches?" George asked never taking his eyes off his congregation.

"Thou shall not suffer a witch to live. Exodus 22:18." Denis responded. The Scot was always good with the scripture.

"And neither shall we."

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Nix, Kuiper Belt, Sol System

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Martinez made sure her safety line was secured to rock and not ice before she stood up. Several workers had to be retrieved by their supply and cargo freighter after their lines had snapped free from the ice and swept them out into orbit. Gravity here on this gray moon was only nine percent of Earths' or what the other workers out here would have referred to as Coruscant standard.

The nearest worker to her wouldn't have referred to Coruscant though. He was an astronaut from Earth, just like her. Both of them had been captured by the Empire two years ago on Mars. After their interrogation by Imperial Intelligence they had helped build a large camp on Mars' surface and then had been transferred out to the Kuiper Belt along with the rest of the 4th Mars Mission and the crew of the Space Shuttle Enterprise.

Pluto and Charon rotated around each other overhead. They were tidally locked to each other like two ends of a dumbbell, same sides always facing each other, with their center of gravity out there between them. They rotated out of the solar plane on their orbit around the sun and their days were a tad over six Earth days with their years 248 Earth years long. Martinez sighed when she realized she wouldn't live to see half of a Plutonian year. And she'd actually been there, scouting impact sites with some of Moff Culter's terraforming teams. Pluto's atmosphere was about as thick as Mars' had been before the Empire started terraforming her and had a daytime temperature of -200 degrees Fahrenheit. It wasn't exactly Martinez's idea of a perfect vacation spot yet given her natural sense of wonder and hunger for exploration she wouldn't have traded it for anything.

She stared at Pluto and Charon in awe of the vast distances she had traveled. Charon was half the size of Pluto. The next closest moon-to-planet ratio was Luna to Earth with Luna one-fourth the size of Earth. From their vantage point on Nix the comparison made her homesick.

"It's still not a planet." Major Ana Gonzalez-Martinez told her companion.

Colonel Adam Finkral chuckled over the comm. "She sure looks like one to me. It's all politics. The National Science Advisor had a big part in declassifying her back in '06, so naturally all of you go goosestepping along with the party line."

Martinez wondered what politics were like back on Earth. They had been out here for so long that little word had reached them. And what little of it there was had been thoroughly filtered through the Imperial propaganda machine. She understood that the other workers were under orders to keep the astronauts in the dark but she knew without them saying that war had broken out between the Empire and Earth. She wondered how quickly the earth had thrown in the towel.

She looked across Nix's dusty surface. The entire crew of workers, captured astronauts and even their two guards were carefully preparing the last stages of an Immobilizer 418 gravity well projector.

The device was beyond futuristic to Martinez. It was capable of creating what the Imps called an 'Interdiction Field' that could move the smallest of planetoids, like Nix, out of their orbit. They were aiming the tiny moon at her sisters, Pluto and Charon, the last two major gravity wells in the Kuiper Belt. Hydra, Pluto's other moon, had been blown to bits several months ago by a pair of Star Destroyers. With their destruction the Empire would have an unhindered hyperlane out of the system.

She only barely understood what a hyperlane was but had come to think of it as a sort of faster than light travel method employed by the Empire's starships. When she inquired about it her fellow workers, aliens and human alike, all told her she wasn't far off.

Martinez made note of every scrap of technical data she came across. One day she would return to Earth and every iota of information the astronauts gleaned from their captors would help the people of Earth throw off the tyranny of the Empire.

She knew the Earth was theoretically decades away from creating a working Orion Pusher Plate for the Space Shuttle Fleet. But since she had been out here in the outer rim of the solar system she had had access to sublight drive engines and had learned the rudimentary theory behind their use. And yet still she was like a child among the regular citizens of the Empire. Things they took for granted were light years beyond Earth's capabilities.

The thought of Light Years made her look out towards the nearest star, Proxima Centauri, only four light years away. It existed beyond human time, beyond human reach. As an Earthling, Martinez had always lived in the little bubble of warmth surrounding Sol. Outside of it lay a vastness beyond comprehension. The solar system was the one and only home of the human race. Even to reach Proxima Centauri would take a human lifetime or more. She thought "four light-years' and knew earthlings would always be fooled by those words 'four' and 'years'. People had so little grasp on how far light travels in a year. 186,282 miles a second. Then she thought of four years of seconds like that. That is what it took to get light from Proxima Centauri.

An Orion Pusher Plate would have gotten them up to two percent of that, or almost ten million miles an hour. She sighed. It still would have taken them two hundred years to reach Proxima Centauri and she didn't even have any Earth-like worlds around her. The nearest ones with planets started about ten light years away. Supposedly the Empire had reached one. Would the Earth?

With an Orion Pusher Plate it would take five million years to cross the Milky Way. It was a long way from the fantasy of Star Trek but her captors had told her that with an established hyperlane it was possible to cross the Galaxy in two to three days, a concept that sent her mind reeling.

"They've got the device all set to go. We're moving out." Their old shuttle pilot, Pete Bosko, informed them. He came bounding up and attached himself to their safety line. He always looked awkward in a space suit and the enviro-suit the Empire had given him didn't help out much. "Three days from now old Pluto, Charon and Nix here are going to have a meeting of the minds."

"Sad. What a way to end the debate." Martinez said.

"And that S-thread booster thing will clear out all the debris that's left behind?" Commander Finkral asked.

"That's what they tell me." Bosko answered. It was one more piece of technology the team was learning.

"Any idea where they're sending us next?" Martinez asked.

"Yep, the boss says we're going to support colonists on Epsilon Eradani's goldilock planet. The Empire's already landing a scout team there."

"Fourth team to Mars, first to leave the solar system." Finkral tried to joke but the humor fell flat.

Martinez put a gloved hand on her commander's arm. "Sir, what do we do with the information we've gathered?"

"We keep learning as much as we can. The guards don't watch us that closely anymore. We're just members of the work crews to them. One day we'll get our chance. Let's just hope the Earth is ready for what we've got to teach them."

Martinez nodded, trying to hold onto a glimmer of hope, but then had a dark thought when she looked up at Pluto. "Let's just hope the Earth is still there."

/

**One more prologue to go. Need your guy's help getting the word about this story out there. I'd appreciate all the community adds if you guys are willing. Thank you.**


	4. Prologue Aurek

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Executive Overwatch Suite, Central Dock Command Spire, KDY Driveyards, Mars Orbit

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Niobe was stressed. "Still no word from the surface?" She asked the three Kuati driveyard foremen, whose holoimages were spread across the Kuat of Kuat's expansive desk. The three tiny, blue figures all shook their heads.

"The section commander of the Home Legion is still proving cooperative but he has requested that we return his troopers' blasters." One of the foremen reported.

"Negative. Thank him for his continued cooperation but security shall remain in the hands of KDY personnel until this crisis is resolved. Is that understood?" She asked the holoimage.

"Yes, my Lady."

As soon as communication had been lost with the planet below Niobe had sprinted to the office of the chief in charge of the KDY security detachment. The Kuati officer had acted quickly. By the time the Lieutenant in charge of the forty stormtroopers aboard the orbiting driveyard knew what was happening they had been surrounded by armed Kuati outnumbering them almost five to one. They had immediately surrendered their weapons and offered to render any assistance the Lady Niobe requested. After speaking to the young stormtrooper junior officer it was quite clear he hadn't the foggiest idea what had happened on Mars, either.

For now, KDY assets were protected and that was what mattered. Kuat before all else, she reminded herself.

Fortunately, in the past few hours she had established contact with the pair of Star Destroyers in near orbit with the station. One of which, the Quill, had been blasted upon by another Imperial warship that had vanished into the void after its assault. While talking with the vessels that remained it became apparent that elements working for Moff Seco had attempted to use hostile force against the legitimate government of the 1st Martian Empire.

Now the madman had the might of the bulk of the Maw Defense Fleet behind him, while his only opposition was the flagship of the Fleet and a lone Victory-class Star Destroyer. There were a few more warships scattered across the system but on sublight drive it would take them most of a day to return to Mars. By then it could be too late. Seco could already be here.

It was believed that Emperor Yos had been slain by an as yet unidentified assassin. Niobe had seen smoke rising from Tarkin Tower in the heart of the capital and suspected explosives had been involved. The fate of Princess Phasma was frustratingly unknown at this time, though rumors persisted that there had been an attempt on her life as well. There was even one crazy one where she had been attacked by a Jedi, of all things.

Another holoimage appeared, an officer in the driveyard's CommScan unit. "My Lady, sensors are picking up the approach of eighteen vessels from the direction of Earth. Suspected ETA in Mars Orbit is forty-five minutes."

"Raise shields. Do we know who they are?" Niobe asked.

"No, my Lady. They might be broadcasting IFF signals but the jamming from the planet's surface is preventing us from making a positive identification of the vessels."

"Notify the Quill and Charger. Bring our turbolaser batteries online." She ordered. It seemed the battle was coming to her whether she was ready or not. She turned to the foremen. "Gentlebeings, see to your sections. I suspect Seco will attempt to capture the driveyard intact. We are much too valuable a prize to ignore. Protect as many workers as you can."

The three figures saluted and vanished. Niobe turned her attention to a CommScan monitor on the wall of the office. It showed the relative position of every military vessel of Tarkin's Fist within the Sol System. Her eyes were drawn to the formation on approach from Earth. Who were they?

There was a click and a snap from somewhere within the desk before her. Niobe stood up and pushed herself away from the table in surprise. She stopped when she came into contact with the viewport behind her.

The desk top split in two along a previously unseen seam in the woodwork. The two halves separated and moved aside to reveal an exotic imagecaster of unknown manufacture. A whir came from the device's inner mechanizations and it spontaneously projected a blurred, four meter tall figure in harsh red tones. The image focused and became the man who had led her into the Maw three years ago. Niobe took a knee.

"My Kuat of Kuat." She kowtowed to her master in proper respect.

"Rise, my child. In these dire moments We do not have the luxury of niceties." Kuat said.

"Yes, my Lord. How is it you are able to send a signal? Am I incorrect to believe you are on the surface of Mars."

"We are. But one does not become the Kuat of Kuat without knowing how to defeat even the most powerful of jamming devices. Who do you think sold the Royal Guard their jammer, a copy of the one We designed for Tarkin aboard his Death Star?" Kuat boasted.

"Excellent, my Lord. How fare you today? There are a fury of rumors and mistruths flying about up here."

"We are to be arrested. We fear it is not long now. There have been several squads of stormtroopers milling about the hallway of Our apartments. They have not dared enter yet. They must be waiting for someone before they make their move. We are utterly trapped here until they do so."

"An outrage. May I ask if you have any news of the Emperor? I only hope that news of his demise has been premature." Niobe asked.

"We wish it were so. We have been passed along confirmation of his passing by several Kuati members of the Culter City RescueOps. They have verified his death with examination of Aveo's body. We believe their report to be truthful as loyal Kuati." Kuat said, with a long sigh. "Aveo was an effective patron. His passing will be felt hard in the days to come."

"My Lord, do you have any idea who has done such an act?"

"The name of the assassin escapes Us. But the hand that sent him to his target surely belonged to Moff Seco. Only Vulnert would be so bold. He has Captain Charge of the Bureau of Operations rounding up Yos loyalists across the city. Worse, he seems to have the Culter City Guard and the Home Legion in his pocket."

"A coup then. Any word of the Heir Presumptive?" Niobe asked.

Kuat shook his head. "Many of the Royal Guard are native sons of Kuat but their loyalties are only for the House of Yos now. They no longer report anything to Us their Emperor doesn't want Us to know. There is also some terrible news of a more personal nature, my child." Kuat's voice was suddenly filled with sorrow.

"My Kuat of Kuat?" Niobe prodded when it appeared Kuat wasn't going to go on.

"I'm sorry. The assassination was brought about by the use of high explosives. I suspect a military-grade proton bomb, probably smuggled in with a suitcase or satchel. The device was detonated during the Regent's Council this afternoon in Tarkin's Tower."

Niobe gasped as sudden fear that chilled the marrow in her bones. "Gage?"

"We . . . I . . . was preoccupied with briefings on other research this morning and sent Gage in my stead to brief the Emperor on the progress of the Ares's construction." Kuat was visibly tearful. It was no secret he had viewed and loved his two assistants as his own children, especially after the loss of his own son due to the 'big jump'.

"Is he?" Niobe didn't want to say the word. She had grown close to her peer during their time here in the Milky Way. Even Kuat hadn't known how close they became at night.

"Yes, my source confirmed the discovery of his body after the attack." Kuat wiped tears from his eyes. "I sent the boy to his death. It should have been me."

Niobe's heart broke. For Gage. For her Kuat of Kuat. "My Lord, he would have attended to you if you had gone. Your death would have been added to his. A tragic loss when we need you most."

"For the sake of all Kuati We shall go on, but Gage shall be remembered to my last breath. He was a true son of Kuat." Kuat pulled himself together. "What is your situation in the driveyard?"

"We have an unidentified force advancing upon us from Earth. The only two battle wagons we have in orbit are the Quill and the Charger. The Quill fought off an attack by the Insertion a few hours ago and that vessel has since retreated to Earth. The Subterrel Squadron is gathering here from points around the system but are not expected to arrive before the approaching Earth Force." Niobe reported.

"Interesting. Your only defenses consist of a few short-range turbolasers. It will be a one-sided battle if it comes to that. What is the Navy asking of you?" Kuat rubbed his chin in contemplation.

"They've requested we turn the two new batteries installed on the Ares on the intruders. They are the largest blasters in the fleet."

"And completely useless. You know as well as We that the tibanna for those weapons has only recently been filled in their storage tanks. The tibanna hoists haven't been installed and the weapons won't be ready to even dry-blast for another month. We can point them, but that is all." The image of Kuat glitched as he spoke. "I'm afraid our time is short. The jammers seem to have found my signal."

"What will you do, my Kuat of Kuat?" Niobe shouted as the signal faded in and out.

"I will seek the truth behind Phasma's disappearance. We must contact the . . ." and he was gone.

Niobe sighed. Hope was fading fast. It was time to keep as much as she could out of Seco's hands. She pushed up a code on her imagecaster and contacted the driveyard's command center. A miniscule blue female figure in a KDY uniform saluted. "Commander Treen, I am authorizing the placement of scuttling charges to be placed throughout the driveyard and the Ares construction site. This station cannot fall into unfriendly hands."

"Yes, my Lady, but you may want to belay that order for a few hours. We are getting encrypted ship-to-ship flash comm from the advancing task force." the officer reported.

"Who is it?" Niobe leaned forward in anticipation.

"We are in contact with Task Force commander, Captain Shesh of the Kuat's Strike. She is openly declaring fealty to the House of Yos and Kuat of Kuat. She is requesting deployment instructions for joining the defense of Mars against the traitorous forces under Moff Seco."

"Is she stating that Moff Seco is on his way here?" Niobe asked.

"She's verified attacks upon her vessels when they attempted to leave Earth orbit. Along with her Vessel she is leading a task force of the Kuat's Storm, The Kuat's Dragon, the Implosion, and the Kuat's Legacy, as well as the Battle of Geonosis from the Subterrel Squadron and six frigates, five light-cruisers from the Kuat Squadron and even the heavy cruiser Revenge of the Gand from the Ploo Squadron."

Niobe's heart soared. "Bring them into line at once, and issue them the new Fleet codes the Quill sent over. It looks like the sons and daughters of Kuat are going to keep this Empire alive for another day." She said in exhilaration.

She smiled at a private memory and placed a hand over her slightly swelled belly. As long as the Kuati lived Gage would not be forgotten.

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Casablanca, Morocco, Earth

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El Presidente peered out over the destroyed port facilities towards the skeletal remains of several ships half submerged in the harbor. Great gouges had been melted through their hulls by super-heated laser beams from outer space. His own lost ships, those of the South American Navy, had been sent to the bottom of the world's great oceans in much the same manner.

Casablanca wasn't the city she had been in the movie that bore her name, nor was she the same city she had been even a year ago. Block-sized craters had haphazardly marred whole sections of the once proud metropolis, leaving the city looking like the worked-over prey of some massive alligator.

Chavez wasn't officially here today. He had been smuggled across the Atlantic in a tiny Gulfstream jet, but not to inspect the damage to Casablanca, nor offer to lend aid to the stricken people here. He had seen far worse over the past months and besides, the great Unions of the New World had no aid to spare for their African cousins.

Instead he was here on a mission for his new boss, President Harris of the newly created Unified Earth, not for war but on a mission of peace.

"That is a truly disconcerting sight. I'm surprised you don't seem more concerned." President Qandil said sipping on an iced tea. The Egyptian politician wasn't talking of the destroyed naval vessels in the harbor but of the dozens of clearly visible orbital spaceships forming up over the Sahara to the east.

"They're certainly trying something new, aren't they? I am never worried though. I have survived this far and have yet to come face to face with an alien. I rejoice in the thought that they feel the need to bring in so many of their space cruisers to capture me, as it prevents them from raining down destruction on my homeland while they do so." Hugo Chavez said while he drank deeply from his own drink to fight off the desert sun. He wished it was an ice cold cerveza instead. He never understood the Muslim faith's mandate to refrain from alcoholic beverages but he could respect it. "They don't seem to be moving in this direction at the moment."

"From your mouth to Allah's ears. I only hope they are not revisiting Egypt. We have suffered enough from the Imperial infidels. Nearly half of our population razed along the Nile from the destruction of our cities and the collapse of our dams." Qandil fumed.

"And yet that did not prevent you from launching an invasion of Israel."

"A successful invasion, finally. Our army occupies everything in the south to the ruins of Tel Aviv, while the Lebanese and what little remains of the Syrians hold the remainder."

"Not all of it. I understand there are Jewish holdouts in the desert."

"We will rut them out eventually." Qandil said. "The Jordanians are also sheltering many of them."

"Perhaps. Or perhaps the Hebrews will launch a war of terror upon you that will make Hamas look like amateurs. And what are your two peoples still fighting over? What of Jerusalem?" Chavez asked.

"A crater. It is even difficult to ascertain the location of the Temple Mount. The whole of the city has been flattened by the infidels. Allah forbid they do the same to Medina or Mecca."

"They could easily do so. Perhaps it is fortunate neither of those Holy Cities have much in the way of strategic value." Chavez speculated. But he wasn't there for speculation, either. His boss had an agenda, one that Chavez believed in wholeheartedly. "I am offering you a way to strike fear into the hearts of those who have done this as well as give you an out in Israel that doesn't leave you a monster amongst your fellow man."

"You speak of the massacres. My communication was lost with the forward elements of my army due to the Imperial armada. The alleged atrocities and slaughter of Jewish communities, if they actually occurred, was the responsibility of local commanders." Qandil objected.

"Oh, they occurred all right, and there's too much evidence to hide it now. Also the errors of a few small unit commanders is not how the world will see it. The Unified Earth Confederacy has condemned your selfish actions very publicly. You will be hailed alongside Pol Pot, Mao and Stalin, and with the surviving Jews you will be worse than Hitler."

"No worse than they are to my people." He shrugged. "Do you offer a solution?"

"The settlers will continue to be a problem for years to come if they remain. I am willing to offer amnesty and a new homeland for them in my own Union. All paid for by the freedom-loving peoples of the Americas. President Harris has already authorized this."

"How would you get them over to South America? There are several thousand to relocate. I have no issue with their relocation but I don't see how it can be done. Any large ship or aircraft has been destroyed or shot down the moment they move. Our own railways have been smashed across North Africa." Qandil said.

"If you can bring them here we can get small craft to bring them across the Atlantic a few at a time. Some small planes as well. It may take us the better part of a year but we're willing to do it." Chavez smiled. Of course he was willing to do it. The Israeli citizens were some of the most highly educated people on Earth. ECHELON spies had confirmed the presence of various leading scientists in their fields amongst their numbers who would be the first to be resettled in Guyana, the site that had been approved by both Harris and him.

"And then what? What do you want of Egypt once the Jews are gone?" Qandil asked.

"Egypt as any kind of power is a myth. The Empire has seen to that. Once your invasion ground to a halt and you weren't shooting other earthlings they rained down destruction upon your forward units. How many divisions did you lose in a single hour? We are offering membership into the United Earth Confederation, or whatever we finally name it. A centralized government for the administration of our world. Not just to organize a unified defense against the Empire and stop reckless internal wars among nations, but instead to lead in the rebuilding effort that will be necessary after our final victory. The time for independent nation-states has passed. Now is the time for us to stand together and fight, or crawl on our knees to the Empire."

"Like the British did?" Qandil looked like he wanted to spit when he mentioned the English treachery.

Chavez nodded.

"I have bandit tribes from Chad and the Sudan ripping open the southern half of my country. I must divert the remains of my army away from the Israelis to eliminating that menace. I don't have much to spare in the fight against the Empire. Besides you and the North Americans, who else is willing to give up control of their country to an outside source?" Qandil asked.

"They are not giving up any control. Local government will remain in place. Trade tariffs will be removed, military command will be linked to the United Earth's command, taxes, health care, all of that will be handled by centralized authority. I'm not going to lie. There are a lot of holes in the plan but they are shortfalls we work out as a single planet, not a conglomerate of petty nation-states." Chavez said.

"You side-stepped my question. Who stands with you so far?"

"The Russians will vote next week. It looks close but Harris is pretty sure they'll join. The Australians are in and the Japanese, South Africa and Unified Korea have just signed." Chavez explained.

"The Japanese are in?" Qandil sounded impressed. The Japanese had managed to hold onto their gold reserves and had a flood of refugees pouring in from the Pacific. They had turned those refugees into a powerful force of factory and construction workers. Slowly but surely the Japanese economy was rebounding into one of the most powerful on the planet. That was, as long as the Empire didn't notice.

"So are the Indian and Pakistani governments. It's no secret they were on the verge of going to war with each other before we stepped in. Now both countries argue that they were about to do no such thing. Harris has already ordered the first Indian divisions into China."

"So the Chinese are in?"

"Things are fluid in the PRC at the moment." Chavez sighed.

"That's an understatement. According to what little news comes out of there it seems they missed a golden opportunity to smash that Imperial army on the Yangtze when they were bogged down in a monsoon."

"Civil war is wasteful but it comes when it comes. We understand how important China is to the Unified Earth Confederacy and we've already made strides in securing support of a large faction in the southern part of China. Ten years ago the NorteAmericanos and I beat each other senseless in a stupid war that was brought about, in large part, by my own hubris and stupidity. When the dust settled China was arguably the greatest superpower, though the NAU's pride would never allow them to admit it. You and I both have sent our children to University in China. Their economy and military strike power dominated half the globe. It's surely the reason the Empire placed a boot on their necks at Shanghai. One of the first goals of the Unified Earth is bringing our Chinese cousins into the fold."

"And so we all become Americans." Qandi sighed.

"Why not. The old US had been trying to Americanize the world for the last century. It's either the devil we know or we serve as slaves for the Empire."

"If you have to put it like that, we Egyptians would welcome inclusion into the new government. As the world knows we are the world's oldest civilization and welcome a chance to forge a new planetary world order."

Chavez didn't want to mention Sumer or older civilizations. He was just pleased the Egyptians were onboard and the Jewish settler issue had a solution. He still had to convince the Israelis to accept it but that was minor compared to the problems the Empire presented. "Excellent, we welcome our African brothers with open arms. We will be sending delegates and military attaches to work out the details. We also encourage you to send some of your top diplomats and military leaders to the NAU to facilitate the transition. There is not a moment to waste," Chavez looked to the space-faring fleet over the desert. "The Empire means to end us all."

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7788th PLA Field Hospital, Fanchang, People's Republic of China, Earth

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Senior Private Wen awoke to screams. It took him several minutes to realize they were his own.

The last few weeks had been nothing more than a handful of painful images and cloudy, smoke-filled memories: A dragon-walker exploding, an alien devil shooting him in the face, battle, fire, fear and everywhere there was water. They could have been dreams they all seemed so unreal.

It took him several more minutes to figure out that he was inside a hospital tent of some type. His face screamed in agony and it was some time before he realized an IV bag was attached to a port inserted in his wrist.

He didn't want it there. He was confused and didn't know why it was there in the first place. With his other hand he started peeling off the bandage covering it.

Suddenly another hand was over it. He looked over and met the gaze of another patient next to him. Hundreds of soldiers lay in cots pressed next to each other.

"Don't." The other wounded soldier said. "You'll only make yourself worse. You need to calm down."

"I need a doctor." Wen croaked. His jaw didn't seem to want to work right and every movement was agony.

"A doctor? Ha! I haven't seen one in days. A medic or a nurse will be by eventually. If you are bad enough they'll take you to surgery. Try to fix your mouth. Where did you get hit?"

Wen had to think about it. The events of his wounding were hazy. He remembered following Colonel Loi on that suicidal charge towards that dragon-walker that had fallen into a water-logged quarry.

"Sanshan." He tasted dried blood in his mouth and felt air being sucked in though the bandages on his cheek.

"Sanshan. You must have been wounded facing the alien-devils. I got hit by a rocket from the north side of the Yangtze. Our own side, if you can call them that anymore.

Wen didn't have the strength to ask what the other soldier meant. His eyelids were heavy and he needed rest. He fell asleep before he could finish his conversation. A few hours later he was shaken awake by a medic.

"How are you?" The corpsman asked.

"Morphine?" Wen moaned. His face sent waves of pain throughout his body with every syllable.

The medic peeled back his facial bandage revealing the gaping hole in Wen's face. "We're all out of morphine except for extreme cases. I can give you this."

The medic reached into a bag he carried and removed a bottle of 600 mg Ibuprofen. He handed the bottle to Wen along with a plastic bottle of water. "Take two every few hours. Not all at once unless you want to OD." The way he said it seemed to hint that several soldiers had already taken that measure to stop their suffering. The medic cleaned Wen's wound and replaced the bandages and the IV bag. "I don't know when I can see you again. Can you walk?"

"Maybe." Was all Wen could say. He bent his knees to make sure his legs still worked. "Possibly."

"That's good. I'll mark you down as ambulatory. A lot of soldiers who need transport are going to get left behind." The medic pulled out a green marker from his pocket and wrote something on Wen's forehead. "Save your strength. You are going to need it."

"Why?" Wen asked.

"We're redeploying the field hospital to Nanling. Everyone that can walk, must walk. It's twenty miles to the south."

"What happened?" The soldier from the next cot had been listening and asked the medic.

"Not sure. From what I understand the enemy has seized Tongling and may be heading in this direction." The medic answered. "Anyway, we're pulling out."

"Alien-Devils." Wen tried to curse but it came out a gurgling rattle.

"Not them bastards. No it's the fucking PLA. Some units crossed the Yangtze River last night and broke through our lines."

"PLA?" Wen was confused.

"Oh, poor bastard. You haven't heard about the civil war." The medic chuckled. "You're in the Earth Union Army now."

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Command Bridge, Acclamator II-class SD Fool, 19 kilometers over the Atlas Mountains, Algeria

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Admiral Bacara looked out the viewport at the vast array of warships forming up in orbit over the desert below. He hadn't seen this many warships gathered together since their arrival in this system after the 'big jump'.

He was unimpressed. He had seen far larger fleets during the Outer Rim Sieges of the last War and this armada paled in comparison to the fleets that had blasted each other to bits over Coruscant during the last days of the Clone War. He hadn't been there, of course. He had been leading the 21st Nova Corps through the hell of Mygeeto. Even back then he had been trying to save the lives of as many of his brothers as he could. Jedi Master Ki-Adi-Mundi seemed willing to throw them away by the hundreds for every objective they gained. Though he knew that some of his brothers still had misgivings, Bacara hadn't hesitated for a second when Order 66 finally came.

He looked across the bridge at the officer leaning across the SubSpace Radar station. The mongrel commissar was a Lieutenant Commander from a frigate in the Ploo Squadron and was assigned to assure loyalty aboard Bacara's warship. As of this afternoon the Loyalty officer was to review every order Bacara issued, much to the Clone Admiral Commander's intense distaste.

He raged in silence as he watched the Fleet gather. He wasn't blind like most mongrel officers assumed of clones. He could figure out things for himself. Seco's claims that the Royal Guard had attempted a coup in Culter City were obviously lies. Bacara deduced as much when the Insertion had fled with her tail between her legs from Mars' orbit. The Ploo Moff had been planning something for months now and the Emperor had been too blind to see it. The only question that remained now was whether or not the Emperor and his daughter had truly been assassinated.

"Comm call coming in, sir." A crewman called out. "It's from the Wilderness."

"Move us into higher orbit and then put it on holoprojector two." Bacara ordered the sailor. The Commissar walked over to join him, and Bacara wondered why the loyalty officer didn't want him to run his choice of holoprojector by him as well.

A blue figure appeared at the front of the bridge. Bacara saluted as soon he recognized Moff Culter, the Imperial Governor who theoretically commanded the Anoat Squadron. "Greetings, Admiral, I trust I found you in good health today."

Bacara noticed out of the corner of his HUD that the Commissar didn't bother to salute, and made a mental note of it.

"I am fine, my Lord." Bacara answered. The best thing about Culter was that he never paid attention to his clones which was fine because Bacara didn't like the soft-spoken terraformer getting under his feet, especially when it came to resettling his clone brethren here in the Milky Way. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm just checking that all our ships are present. As you may already know I am a guest of my friend Vulnert here aboard his flagship." Culter said. Bacara grunted in response, mentally retooling Culter's statement into something closer to the truth: he was more like a hostage to keep the Anoat Squadron in line. "He has asked me to address you concerning our Squadron and possible deserters."

Bacara took a deep breath and rattled off his official statement. "No need, my Lord. We are following protocols laid out in Operation Diathim's deployment orders. If Emperor Yos and Princess Phasma have perished, as claimed by Moff Seco, then we shall follow the Theater Commander's orders regarding regime change. Our personal feelings and loyalties are irrelevant. We have our orders and we shall follow them until they are executed or we are relieved of them by higher authority."

"That's the good thing about you clones." The Commissar said, "You know how to follow orders."

Bacara glared at the mongrel through his eye pieces as if he were looking at the man over the open sights of his blaster rifle.

"So no runners like the Kuati had in their Squadron?" Culter inquired.

Bacara had heard of the ships that had slipped by Seco and made the dash back to Mars. He wished them luck but didn't think much of their chances of standing up against the remaining turbolasers of the fleet, even with the mighty Quill on their side.

"No, my Lord. We have our orders." Bacara said, eyeballing the Commissar's sidearm and thinking that the scum was just waiting for him to make a disloyal move against the high and mighty "Seneschal" Seco.

"Excellent. Seneschal Seco, that's what he calls himself now, Seneschal. Have you ever heard anything so strange? Anyhow, he wanted me to take control of my Squadron for the defense of Earth. I see things are in good hands so I won't be a bother." Culter said.

"So we're not gathering here for an immediate strike on Mars?" Bacara asked. He had assumed Seco would want to move quickly to consolidate his gains on Mars. The adage "Never let the enemy get organized" had been drilled into Bacara during his training on Kamino.

"Not quite yet. Seco is worried about loyalty in several Army units. It's been horrible over here. Some of these men are completely uncultured. Did you hear about Admiral Hadrian?" Culter asked, sounding more like a gossipy old woman than an Imperial Governor.

The Commissar appeared nervous, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other and back again.

"I heard." Bacara replied. It was an outrage that Seco had executed the Kuati Admiral a few hours ago due to the loss of the escaped vessels. Surely dissent and outrage were spreading amongst the warships of the 3rd Kuati Fleet.

"Just horrible, but yes, I assume we will be moving on Mars shortly. Whenever Vulnert is ready."

"Shall I recall my Legions from Earth?" Bacara said, hopeful he could remove his brothers from the imminent danger of a hostile enemy.

"Vulnert says no. The Home Legion should have control of all ground locations by now. The foolish ships that guard Mars are expected to stand down at our approach." Culter said.

"What of our forces on Earth then, my Lord?"

"Oh, we'll be back to get them. The Seneschal has told me that once we have Mars we will retrieve the Legions and then perform a Base Delta Zero operation against the Terran world."

"An extreme and unnecessary measure, sir." Bacara replied.

"I thought so as well. So much potential for a successful inhabited terraform wasted. I weep for the Terrans I truly do, but Seco's mind is made up. Once we have Mars, the beings of Earth will die."

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HoloNet Central Broadcast Relay Aurek 1, Yos Government District, Culter City

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Jill Harris was taken aback. Princess Phasma was like a furious elemental force unleashed upon the universe.

The Princess had survived the most bizarre attack upon her person that Jill had ever dreamed of. Whenever she closed her eyes she could still picture the swarm of lizard-men assassins hurling over the collapsed balcony's railing as they rushed the diminutive royal.

And as for the miraculous arrival of the Princess's savior Jill simply could not find the words. Ashla Ti was some kind of ninja/Buddhist monk/Terminator that the Imperials seemed to simultaneously fear and revere. The red alien woman leaned against the far wall and spoke with several Royal Guardsmen. The so-called 'Jedi' stood over a bound and unconscious prisoner, the leader of the assassins, like a protective lioness. The Royal Guard appeared uneasy, though whether it was the Jedi or the assassin presence, Jill had no idea. The alien looked as if she were about to throw her prisoner over her shoulder and bolt out the door at any moment. Jill had overheard several whispered conversations during the last hour regarding the fact that the Imperials had allegedly wiped Ashla's religious order out in some type of genocidal campaign a decade ago. No wonder the Jedi looked as if she were about to turn rabbit.

Genocide was very much on her mind these days.

Since coming to Mars her number one concern had been the safety of her children. Griffon and Cameron sat outside the control room in the hallway. They were accompanied by Jill's protocol droid, C-3PX, who entertained them with stories of someone named Darth Vader. The boys were enthralled.

After the boys' welfare she longed to ease the trials and tribulations of her people. It was with no small amount of pride that she watched her husband's vilification played out on the Empire's HoloNet as he led a stubborn resistance back on Earth. She yearned to return to Earth and resist the invaders any way she could, and yet realized her capture had inadvertently placed her in the one spot in the galaxy to do the most good, at the side of Princess Phasma of Mars.

Phasma stood in the center of the bustling control center. Couriers ran in and out as they brought in invoices and messages from around the city. It had been explained to Jill that the powerful machines in the room had cut off all communication on the planet's surface to a distance equal to near orbit, effectively handicapping the coup that was launched against the Royal family. A coup that a political hostage such as Jill feared she would not survive if it proved successful in the end. Moff Seco was a vile, evil little man and he would surely do whatever it took to secure power.

One of those methods had been the assassination of Emperor Yos, Phasma's father, and the arrest of a major portion of the civilian and military administrators of the capital. Jill looked at Phasma in wonder. The girl had barely flinched when her guard force had confirmed the death of her father.

That had been over an hour earlier. Now the young royal was a human artillery battery, unleashing a barrage of orders and missives to her loyal soldiers. Plain clothed Guardsmen and even some in the armor of regular stormtroopers slipped out into the city. A larger picture of what was happening in the Empire was slowly starting to take shape. Seco had misstepped when he failed to ensure Phasma's demise. He had erred again when he failed to press his advantage hours ago.

The breaking and falling of windows from above caught Harris's attention. Several of the blue-armored body guards were knocking out the glass and erecting barriers for their sharpshooters. A team of them wrestled an ungainly weapon into place.

Harris walked over to one of the ground level windows and peered out at the small city square that abutted the front of the relay station. She recognized several of the soldiers on the far side by their red armor. The Culter City Guard. At least six of them stood idly behind three of their floating squad cars. The police-soldiers made no attempt to approach the building and instead focused on closing down the street to civilian traffic. Harris recognized the beginning of a perimeter when she saw it. Soon there would be more of those red police-soldiers outside. Phasma needed to focus if they were going to get out of this alive.

She watched as two flying motorcycles landed next to the squad cars. One of the new arrivals appeared to be in charge. The police behind the barricade pointed towards their building and he nodded. He took off his helmet and approached the building. As he moved closer he held out his hands to show that he was unarmed.

"Hold your blasting." One of the Royal Guardsman whispered.

The man outside cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted towards them. "Attention to those of you partaking in the illegal occupation of this building and breaking the law of the Empire. I have a message for you from Captain Charge of the Bureau of Operations and acting military commander of Culter City, under the direction of Seneschal Seco."

Jill had always thought that these Imperials were a pompous lot and the bellowing dolt outside was no exception.

He continued, "You are to surrender yourself and your arms to proper authority by seventeen hundred hours this evening. Failure to do so will result in the initiation of executions by blasting squad of prisoners taken earlier today by forces loyal to the Seneschal. Captain Charge will personally carry out these orders at the 5th Precinct of the Culter City Guard."

Phasma had been listening intently to the messenger's words. Jill had heard that there had been thousands of arrests around the city, showing a level of organization to the coup that must have taken months to set in place.

Jill walked over to the Princess and touched her arm. "They don't know you're still alive. Now is the time."

"But what if I play my hand too soon?" Phasma asked.

The red alien woman stepped forward. "You must place your trust the Force. Now is the time to move before all support is gone and Moff Seco arrives."

Jill couldn't have said it better herself, well, except for the Force part, which seemed preachy to her. "Now is the time to lead. Your people need you."

"I'll go," She turned to the Royal Guardsman in charge of the building's defense, "Lieutenant, are those CCG officers being jammed out there?" Phasma pointed.

"Yes, your Highness. We're still jamming all comm on the planet. Snipers to the viewports." he answered before rushing to the door ahead of Phasma.

The Guardsmen held each of the handles on the double doors to the building. Phasma looked back over her shoulder at Jill and then nodded firmly to the Guardsmen that she was ready. Jill smiled encouragement back. The Guardsmen opened the door to the bright Martian day.

The Princess stepped out.

Looking back on it the surrender of the CCG officers had happened so quickly. Jill closed her eyes and tried to memorize the smug look on the messenger's face as he realized who had exited the building. They had been so ready to accept the Royal Guard's surrender, and instead they had fallen over themselves to pledge their allegiance and fealty to the resurrected Princess.

"I would have never followed Moff Seco's orders if I had known you were still alive, your Highness." The messenger stated.

"I'm afraid news of my death is a bit premature. I am hereby ordering you to return to the 5th Precinct and prevent Captain Charge from issuing any new orders or leaving that location. If he continues to do so you have orders to execute him and any of his supporters as traitors to the Empire. Am I understood?" Phasma barked.

The police-soldiers all snapped to attention and saluted. "Yes, your Majesty." The messenger shouted.

"For the Empress!" they all shouted and rushed to their squad cars.

Phasma took a stutter step backwards. Jill stepped forward, afraid the girl was about to fall over. She wrapped her arm around Phasma's shoulder but the girl just watched the retreating police cruisers.

The Royal Guard officer came forward next and started bellowing orders to his men. "You all have your orders. Spread out across the city and get the word out that the Heir lives. Broadcast that message across every channel of the HoloNet and drop the jamming. Let the Empire know that Phasma is in charge."

Dozens of Guardsmen slipped out of the building and into the city. The coup was reversing itself. And though this felt like the end Jill knew it was only the beginning.

Within a few minutes only a few Royal Guards, Ashla Ti and Jill remained with the Princess. Jill faced the Princess and looked into her large brown eyes as they filled with tears. "Are you ok, Phasma? What is it?"

"Did you hear what they called me? They called me the Empress." Phasma choked out a small sob.

Jill looked over to the alien for support, but Ashla just shrugged. The Royal Guard seemed to vanish as they secured the perimeter, giving their new monarch her space. "But you are, or you will be once you go through whatever type of crowning ceremony you people use to name a new leader."

"But that means, it means, I mean . . . He really is gone." Phasma collapsed forward and wrapped her arms around Jill's waist. Harris was no monster to revel in her enemy's loss and held the poor girl close as sobs wracked her body. Phasma cried for a long time and Jill was willing to hold her for as long as she needed to. She hoped someone would do the same for her boys if she ever left them.

"Princess, it is time to go. Your people need you." Jill whispered to the girl.

Phasma pulled her head back and seemed to mull over Jill's words for a moment and then nodded. Ashla Ti handed the royal a handkerchief and Phasma dried her eyes. "He would want me to go on, wouldn't he?" Phasma asked.

"He was very proud of you. I could tell."

"The beings of Mars are with you, your Highness." Ashla offered. "Seco plans to put an end to everything your father started."

Jill winced. Phasma's father had started the most devastating war her world had ever seen. But she clung to the hope that Phasma would be the means to end the conflict that threatened to destroy Earth.

"Then I won't give him a chance." Phasma stated. "Let us be on our way. I have an Empire to save."


	5. Revolution

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112th floor, Bador and Ronay Executive Tower, Kuati Research Sector, Culter City, Mars

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Kuantus Kuat stood along the Cosian Wood railing of his personal landing pad and watched with solemn interest the passing of Sol beneath Mars' western horizon. Phobus was also quickly disappearing in the west but its eight hour orbit would have it rising in the east in a few hours. Already the first of millions of stars were appearing in the east. He quietly contemplated if this would be his last sunset.

If it was, well then, what was that Jedi saying in the old days? It was the will of the Force. Twilight was always a good hour to dwell on the greatest mystery that shadowed every society. The Jedi believed they became one with the Force after they died but what did that mean to everyone else? Nothing, probably.

"Can't live without death and you can't die without living." Kuat said to the cityscape spread out before him. His words were lost on the evening breeze.

A tune wafted out from his executive penthouse apartments. Kuat recognized it as one of his favorite symphonies, Duel of the Fates, by the StewJon Composer Jon Smailliw. It was a fitting melody for musing on the day's events.

Rush hour traffic was almost nonexistent in the city tonight. So many beings of the Empire were staying home, barring their doors from very real monsters that went bump in the night. As if in response to his thoughts a low boom rolled in from Malastare Heights. Kuantus had never experienced combat but had spent a lifetime on one experimental blasting range or another, so he tried to identify the noise. It was some type of landspeeder bomb, if he wasn't mistaken. It meant either that resistance in the city was growing or that Captain Charge was resorting to more extreme measures to hold down the city.

He turned his gaze to the metropolis's center. The edifice of Tarkin Tower stilled loomed over the city. Even from several kilometers away Kuat could make out the RescueOps and Burnout Brigade airspeeders still buzzing around the smoking ruins of the military headquarters' upper levels. Their landing lamps were much more visible now that the sun had finally descended. The smoke plume stretched out over the Xanthe Terra Highlands before finally dissipating.

The death of Aveo Yos was a tragedy, no doubt. There was no denying that Kuat had butted heads with the first Emperor of Mars from time to time but Yos had been a fair ruler. He hadn't been as focused on super weapons and menacing ship designs as Palpatine had been. Instead Yos had allowed Kuat to design some of the most elegant and beautiful vessels of his long career, two of which were the colony vessels that were even now extending the borders of the Empire.

"I wish you a good journey to whatever afterlife you believed in, my friend." Kuat told the night.

A wistful sigh escaped his lips. The day had started out with such promise. The news from Epsilon Eridani had been monumental but the advancement of science and progress would not be the event for which this day would be remembered. He had been so focused on the news from that system that he had sent his assistant, Gage, in his stead to the Emperor's council.

He felt a lump grow in his throat. He had known Gage since he was a youngling. Gage was offspring of one of Kuat's finest weapon designers. Kuantus had sponsored him through the Academy of Engineering and Design on Kuat itself, and had watched with great pride as the boy became a man and then one of the finest administrators Kuat had ever known. His placement on Kuat's personal staff had been a foregone conclusion.

I've lost the boy, he thought, just like I lost my own son. It should have been me. Kuat's hands gripped the railing in anger at the cowards who had caused this pain. He looked down at the roadway far below and contemplated a dark release.

Sirens echoed across the red canyons of Culter City. The fading sound tore him away from his cowardly machinations. He would not let Seco win that easily. He could see the reflections of CCG emergency lamps reflecting off the unpowered monitor screens around Tarkin's Square. There had been a bombing down there that coincided with the attack on the Emperor. There had also been rumors that the Imperial Guard had assassinated the heir to the Empire, Princess Phasma Yos, there.

Kuat smirked. He did not get to his station by being unable to sort fact from rumor.

There was the shuffling of mechanical joints from behind him. Kuat didn't bother to turn at the rolling approach of his WA-7 service droid. "Would you like a cup of Ansionian Tea, my Kuat of Kuat? The temperature will surely start to cool down now that Sol has set."

"No thank you, WA-7. Ansionian Tea always makes me a tad drowsy and I fear I'm going to need my wits about me tonight." Kuantus replied.

"How about some spiced caf then, my Lord."

"Thank you, but again no. How are our guests doing in the alcove?" Kuat said, referring to the three squads of Home Legion stormtroopers outside of his apartment. So far they hadn't dared enter his residence, but as the day progressed and reports mounted of Captain Charge taking control of more and more of the city, Kuat knew it was only a matter of time before the scum made his move. The stormtroopers were only there to assure Kuat didn't leave before he could be properly arrested.

"Sensors show they are growing anxious and they've had a pair of couriers in the past forty minutes." WA-7 reported.

"I assume their orders are to remain in place. They'll move when they have to. I mean, those troopers couldn't be afraid of one old man and his service droid." Kuat mused while staring out over the city.

"They have remained polite. As you requested I offered them caf and snacks, of which they partook most graciously. They have made no attempt to enter your abode."

"Excellent. They're waiting. It won't be long now." Kuat said.

The WA-7 bowed and rolled back inside.

Kuat gazed upwards at his driveyards. A mere shadow of what he had on Kuat itself, the Martian driveyards were three times the size they had been when they had arrived here after the 'big jump'. The hull of the Super Star Destroyer Ares was visible as it caught the last rays of the descending sun.

Niobe will have placed scuttling charges by now, he thought. What a waste. I wonder if I'll be able to make out the first blasts of battle between Mars' few defenders and that task force Niobe had warned me about. He took his eyes off of the orbital facility. He didn't want to watch the void. He didn't want the vision of his driveyard's destruction locked in his memory, especially if it took the life of his last assistant with it.

How he wished Niobe was at his side now. His two assistants were like his own children in this new galaxy. Their lives and achievements filled him with joy. They thought he was blind to their tryst but he had known, probably before they even did, that they had fallen in love. His heart reached out to the girl. What she must be feeling now, now that he had informed her that Seco's agents had murdered Gage. It was for the best that it came from me, Kuat thought.

Seco you scum, he mused. He glared out at the tiny, blue-green light appearing in the southeast. You have taken too much from us today. I was a fool when I consoled the Princess that the Ploo Moff was no danger to the Empire. That the only thing they had to fear from Seco was desertion with his Squadron. A strategic disappearance into the Wild Space regions of the Milky Way. How I misjudged his ambition. To shoot for the very throne itself, and supposedly Culter is standing at his side. Uredo, what have you gotten us into? Do you truly think Seco cares for your need to save the Earth after he has destroyed it.

"Seco will stand for no rival after this, my friend." Kuat told the stars. "I should have listened to the girl."

The WA-7 raced out from the apartment. "My Kuat of Kuat, you must come quickly. Several officers have arrived. They are politely requesting permission to enter."

"That's civil of them." Kuat turned and approached the entrance. "Fetch me my traveling cape. Do we still have the comm?"

"We never lost it since contact was made." The WA-7 said before vanishing to retrieve Kuat's cloak. It reappeared a second later and helped fasten the apparel around his neck. There was heavy pounding on the reinforced front door now. He ignored it.

Kuat took up a position next to the wet bar in the foyer and poured himself a drink. He threw back a snifter of Corellian Thunder Whiskey to steady his nerves. Behind the bar he had placed a loaded blaster pistol within easy reach, cocked and ready to blast. He turned to the droid. "I am ready to be connected."

The front doors were suddenly kicked wide open. They rattled loudly as they bounced off the entranceway's walls. An officer entered the room followed by a dozen stormtroopers who fanned out and searched the residence. Kuat locked eyes with the officer advancing upon him. Kuat noted that the officer didn't bother with a salute or a bow.

"What can I do for you, Colonel?" Kuat asked.

"Moff Kuat, I am Colonel Katarn, commander of the Home Legion. My 1st Battalion has orders to seal off the Kuati Research District and place you under arrest." The stern officer replied. Colonel Katarn eyed the blaster pistol lying on the bar but Kuat made no move for it.

"Are you a dedicated Imperial, Colonel Katarn? Were you loyal to the Emperor and the House of Yos?"

Katarn appeared to be caught off guard by Kuat's question. "Yes . . . my Lord."

"Hello." A small voice came from Kuat's pocket.

"May I?" Kuat asked the officer who said nothing in return. Kuat reached in and pulled free his palm imagecaster. He then extended his arm and held it out to a confused Katarn. There was silence in the apartment as Katarn took the device.

"Hello?" The Colonel asked the device.

Suddenly the blue form of Phasma Yos shot upwards from the imagecaster. "Do you recognize who I am?"

Katarn was in awe, and for a moment he was unable to speak. Then he dropped to a knee, "Of course, My Lady." The stormtroopers around the room snapped to attention.

The Empress looked the Colonel in the eye, "Then listen to me very carefully . . ."

A few moments later Katarn escorted Kuat downstairs to his waiting battalion. The officer's demeanor had changed drastically since he had entered Kuat's residence. Now that he no longer held the upper hand, Kuat was sure the man was formulating a plan to salvage his career and perhaps even keep his life. If the Empress was as vengeful as Palpatine had been, Darth Vader would have already choked the life out of the Colonel. The only chance Katarn had was to throw himself into rounding up the traitors who had initiated this coup and played him for a fool.

The turbolift opened up to the building's lobby and they were greeted by dozens of stormtroopers as well as a squad from the Culter City Guard. Kuat recognized the Devaronian, Jord'Dan, Commissar of the Culter City Guard, outside waiting for them.

"Sir, we have comm again. Captain Charge is demanding an update on Diathim's status." A stormtrooper captain reported. Katarn just curtly nodded and walked right past the trooper.

Katarn led the way outside. There was a long column of open-topped gravtrucks filled with prisoners. "Release these beings at once." Katarn ordered his troopers.

Jord'Dan rushed to Katarn's side. The police chief eyed Kuat suspiciously. "But these beings are part of the coup."

"Shavit, man." Katarn scowled, "I've been on the comm with the Empress Phasma herself. We are the coup, you idiot. We've been duped."

The CCG Commissioner looked shocked for a few seconds but quickly recovered. He turned to Kuat and bowed at the waist. "My Lord, your orders?"

"Come with us. We have duties to perform for the new Empress." Kuat said. Jord'Dan's eyes went wide once more. "Oh yes, the Colonel is correct, Phasma lives. I go to advise our true ruler on how to deal with those who supported the murderers of Emperor Yos."

"Surely I didn't know, my Lord. On my honor, I swear the Culter City Guard has been tricked." Jord'Dan pleaded frantically. "We serve at the late and great Emperor Yos's whim. Surely you must see that betrayal is beyond us."

"That is for the Empress to decide." Colonel Katarn interjected with a threat in his tone. "Now clear your roadblocks for the Moff's passage or the Home Legion will clear them for you."

The Colonel pushed past the stunned policeman and opened the door to his personal landspeeder for Kuat. Kuat entered the back seat of the vehicle followed by the two officers. Jord'Dan was already on his secure comlink ordering the barricades to stand down and letting his police officers know whose orders to follow.

"Where to, my Lord?" Katarn asked.

"To the CCG's 5th Precinct Headquarters." Kuat answered.

Katarn turned to his driver. "You heard Moff Kuat. Move." The V-19 landspeeder accelerated with a lurch that slightly pressed Kuat back into his seat.

Half a dozen CCG deputies sped ahead atop BARC speeders to block traffic, though who they were intending to block was beyond Kuat. The capital had become a ghost town with the setting of the sun. The only beings on the roadways were the troopers and police of the Home Legion and CCG. They passed several squads dismantling barricades or helping free the occupants of their gravtrucks who had been their prisoners just moments before.

Kuat leaned forward and spoke to the driver. "Does this landspeeder have comm access to the HoloNet? If so could you please turn it on?"

"On audicasters only, my Lord." The trooper responded and toggled a switch on the console.

The calm, familiar voice of a popular Lannik HoloNews anchor sounded from the devices, ". . . during the simultaneous attack of the Emperor's only daughter, Phasma Yos. The Princess received minor injuries and has immediately resumed her work. According to sources within the Royal Guard, Phasma has ascended the throne and taken the title of Empress. There is no word yet of a formal enthronement. Due to the ongoing crisis Empress Phasma has asked that all Imperial residents remain in their homes until the situation is resolved . . ."

"She's working fast." Kuat said, admiring the Empress's decisiveness.

"She's had control of the HoloNet since this afternoon. Captain Charge was wary of rushing the broadcast relay station downtown while it was protected by so many of the Imperial Guard." Jord'Dan said. "The scum's mistake. I assume new orders are being issued for his arrest?"

Kuat nodded.

"Seco and his lackies are not wasting any time either now that the Guard's dropped their jamming. He just sent this declaration across the military channel." Katarn pushed a button on his wrist and a holoimage of the Ploo Moff jumped up.

The little blue figure of the Ploo Moff was almost frantic. Kuat wondered if Seco was in full control of his cognitive reasoning. "HoloNet Broadcast comm is incorrect. Emperor Yos is dead as well as his heir, Princess Phasma. Only orders originating from Theater Command are to be carried out with utmost haste. All military forces on Mars are to follow the orders of Captain Charge of the Bureau of Operations and acting military governor of Mars during this illegal rebellion led by the scum in the Imperial Guard . . ." Katarn cut off the signal.

Kuat sneered at the vanishing blue figure. His rival was growing desperate, but he knew Seco's cause was still far from lost. There was still much work that needed to be done.

He could feel thousands of eyes upon them as they moved through the city. Imperial residents by the millions huddled inside their homes and watched HoloNet broadcasts as they tried to make sense of what was happening to the Empire. Many of them risked furtive glances out their viewports as Kuat passed by. More of them, perhaps remembering the dangerous times of the 1st Galactic Empire, covered their viewports with security blinds and blockaded their doors.

Kuat could feel a palpable sadness in the air as they sped through the darkness. Almost two thirds of Culter City owed their freedom to a leader whose life had been stolen by a coward's explosive. Kuat feared that dark times were at the door again.

They arrived at the 5th Precinct with a squeal of brakes. A dozen red CCG troopers outside the building snapped to attention. An officer amongst them blocked his eyes from their headlamps with his hand. A score of gravtrucks had followed them and quickly surrounded the building. Tailgates slammed open. The sounds of a plastoid boots hitting the duracrete filled the air as Home Legion stormtroopers poured forth to surround the building. The few CCG deputies guarding the precinct quickly threw up their hands.

The front of the building was brightly illuminated by dozens of headlamps. The unknown officer out front recognized Colonel Katarn as he stepped out of his landspeeder. Kuat stayed where he was for the moment to watch how the scene played out. He recognized the wrist tab on the officer's uniform; that of a naval Lieutenant from the Ploo Squadron's Babel.

The officer saluted Katarn. "We have comm again but now the military districts are receiving contradictory orders. I've got troopers sitting around joking about whose turn it is to arrest whom. Neither the Imperial Palace or the HoloNet are under our control, and Captain Charge believes we've lost control of the troopers at Tarkin Tower. The word on the roadway is that the Princess is somehow still alive."

"Is Captain Charge inside, Lieutenant?" Katarn asked the naval officer.

"Yes, sir. He's been trying to contact the Seneschal."

Katarn turned to several nearby stormtroopers. "Place this man under arrest."

The officer's face turned to shock as the stormtroopers moved forward and seized him. He looked as if he were about to complain when he spotted Kuat stepping out of the landspeeder. He looked down towards the ground trying to figure out what sort of disaster had just landed upon him. Kuat ignored the man as the troopers dragged him away.

Jord'Dan approached Kuat, "My Lord, for your own safety I insist you stay here until my men secure the building. We have a secure perimeter established and will soon have the traitor in custody."

Katarn turned to the policeman. "You have five minutes. Then my troopers go in."

"Don't worry. The CCG will perform their solemn duty for the Empress." Jord'Dan then spoke into the comlink attached to his gauntlet.

Within seconds several urban assault troopers crashed through the front door. Kuat and the others listened intently. On the second floor glowlamps flickered on and off for a moment as the sound of blasters rang out. The sudden boom of a flash bang blew out the glass of a viewport on the third story followed by a pair of single blasts.

"Commissioner, this is Assault Team Lead, building is secure. We have four suspects in custody." a CCG trooper reported over Jord'Dan's comlink.

"The building is ours. Shall we?" Jord'Dan motioned with his hand towards the caved in front entrance.

Jord'Dan led the way while Katarn stayed at Kuat's side, his hand resting on his sidearm. Kuat smirked; only thirty minutes ago this officer had attempted to arrest him and was now willing to throw down his life to protect him. Ah, to live in interesting times, he mused.

The halls of the 5th Precinct were covered in scattered flimsiplast. Several scorch marks showed the results of poorly-aimed blaster fire. The turbolifts had been taken off-line by the assault team, which forced them to take the stairwell. Near the second floor field medics worked on an injured stormtrooper who had been hit in the arm. They ignored the immobile bodies of a pair of Ploo Squadron officers nearby. So did Kuat as he passed.

At last they came to a large wooden door guarded by almost a dozen heavily armed stormtroopers. "My precinct captain's office," Jord'Dan indicated. "The prisoners are inside."

"Thank you, Commissioner, Colonel, I will take this from here." Kuat said as he stepped forward. The troopers opened the doors for him. The room was crowded with a mix of red and white armored troopers. Kneeling on the floor with their arms bound behind them were four military officers. Kuat recognized Captain Charge. The traitor was bleeding profusely from a wound in his shoulder.

"If you have any last messages I suggest you write them now." Kuat said as he strode into the center of the room.

Captain Charge looked up at the Moff and glared. "I'd rather my actions spoke for me. I prefer my wife and younglings remember our last time together."

Two of the officers nodded bravely in agreement. The third, a TIE pilot Major spoke up. "I'd like a pistol, please." Kuat looked at the officer, who added. "For personal reasons."

Kuat nodded and turned to Katarn and held out his hand. Katarn handed over his sidearm. Kuat looked at the stormtrooper behind the TIE pilot. "Untie him."

The trooper did so and then with the aide of another trooper they lifted the officer up and propped him up in a chair. Kuat handed the pilot the pistol. "Get on with it then."

The moment was surreal. The pilot looked at his fellow conspirators and nodded in farewell. He placed the pistol to his temple, "I'm thinking on the Empire that was . . ."

The sudden snap of the pistol echoed off of the quiet halls of the precinct. Kuat watched as the body collapsed out of the chair.

As if the moment never happened Kuat then turned on the remaining officers. "Very well. A court martial convened by the Empress has pronounced sentence. Captain Charge, Admiral Neptu, Moff Culter and the ridiculous 'Seneschal', whose true name I will not speak, along with their conspirators in the assassination of Emperor Yos, are condemned to death."

Kuat turned back to Jord'Dan. "Take them outside."

Katarn and Jord'Dan practically fell over themselves getting their men to move quickly. The three traitors were man-handled to their feet and shoved out the door. The stormtroopers were none too gentle with the traitors but Kuat was sure no one was in the pitying mood.

Charge was the last one to be led from the room. He was weak and pale from loss of blood. "You're not doing yourself any favors. Phasma is weak, little more than a youngling. Seco will be here soon with his fleet and he will return us to the glory of the true Empire. Wait and see. You've only bought yourself a day, you old fool." He growled. "No one will be spared."

Outside several gravtrucks had been arranged in a semi-circle. Their headlamps marked the scene with stark white light and long black shadows. Charge and the other two officers were marched to the front of the building and placed up against the wall. They squinted against the bright lamps of the gravtrucks.

Dozens of troopers, a mix of Home Legion troopers and CCG patrolmen, scrambled to form a line in front of the three traitors. Katarn faced Kuat and saluted. "My Lord, with your permission I will perform this duty."

"Very well, proceed." Kuat said, musing on how differently this night could have gone. How easily it would have been for Charge and himself to switch places with each other. He believed it was the will of the Force that things turn out the way they had.

"Make ready!" Katarn shouted to the make-shift blasting line.

Katarn raised his arm, "Take aim!" A dozen blaster rifles were leveled at the officers along the wall. The three of them stood proudly, still assured their cause was right. Kuat was grateful for their stubbornness, as he simply couldn't abide begging.

At the last second Charge stepped forward and shouted, "Long live sacred Palpatine!"

Katarn dropped his arm and twelve blaster rifles sang out.

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**Next month the return of the curbstomp**


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